Unthinkable
by lbindner
Summary: Sam does the unthinkable to Jack...or does she? The price for that one question may be too steep for all of them.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nope, got nothin... which is the point, isn't it?

Unthinkable

by Linda Bindner

A/N1: An AU from after 'It's Good to be King' in 8th season

A/N2: By the time I realized that there's a Point Of View problem in this story, rewriting it to come from only one character's POV would have been monumentally time consuming, and I'd already spent a year on this story - long enough! So I attempted to indicate near the beginning of each chapter who's POV you would be enjoying - if I failed and you're still confused to death, I apologize ahead of time.

A/N3: This fic is finished and has 28 chapters.

A/N4: Thanks goes to Noda2, KEF, and Sasha7 for being such great betas. This story is as much yours as mine.

Chapter 1

The minute SG-1 arrived back from the mission, Sam did the unthinkable.

At the bottom of the ramp, in the crowded Gate Room, Sam Carter asked General O'Neill to give her away at her wedding.

And in the next instant, General O'Neill dissolved, leaving Jack in his place, a man steeped in unhappiness who didn't know what to say. Or, actually, he knew what to say, but his inborn sense of decorum wouldn't allow him to say it - at least, not in the way his instincts wanted him to say it.

But it didn't matter anyway, since Jack couldn't even speak. He stared at Carter, his face twisted in shock, his mouth slightly gaping open, and his eyes glazed over in panic. _She wants..!_ he thought, speech beyond his stunned form. Incredulous, he could only think the same words as before: _She wants..!_ He blinked, his eyelids fluttering against numb eyeballs. He was just beginning to wonder how something as unfeeling as eyeballs could possibly be numb when his mind switched back into gear.

Sam Carter was far too deeply engraved on his heart, ingrained in his psyche, a part of what made up him to actually scoop out and give her away! To be asked to do such a thing... she should automatically know that it was purely impossible!

But apparently she didn't, or she would never have asked such a thing in the first place. Now she stood patiently, waiting for him to answer.

But O'Neill wouldn't, and Jack couldn't. He stood before her, mute, while that horrible moment stretched out like it had become 'The Yawning Black Hole in the Gate Room.'

You could hear a pin drop, the room was so quiet. Jack had a fleeting thought of wishing that he had a grenade handy so that he could blow them all up, then it would make no difference _who_ gave her away. But the necessary ordinance was conspicuously missing - lucky for him.

Lucky for her, too. His sense of decorum had saved her. The silent scene she'd created was embarrassing enough as it was.

Sam's way of handling utterly embarrassing situations was to ramble before she could hopefully hide. "Dad's gone - I can't find him or the Tok'ra, and General Hammond just had that heart attack... and Mark doesn't have the proper..." Her voice finally broke, and she had to clear her throat so that she could continue, her features just beginning to swoop into confusion. "Um... he doesn't have the clearance, and..." Jack was now staring at her with an expression that said she'd successfully killed the last ray of hope he had. And it was clear just from her expression that she didn't understand what was happening, or why.

Despite that, Sam stubbornly went on, as if she didn't know exactly what this scene was doing to him. "And you're the most important..." She'd been going to say 'person to me,' but his strangled gurgle cut her off. His intellect was screaming that if he was the most important person to her, then why was she even asking him to give her away so that she could _marry somebody else?_

Jack tried hard to make his mouth form words, but he was simply incapable of speech. It was Daniel who responded first, softly asking, "Sam, have you lost your mind?"

Sam looked utterly baffled. "No, I don't think I've lost my mind." She self-consciously stared around at all the witnessing people. "You're all important to me," she stated as if to convince them of her sincerity. She turned. "Well, Sir? Do we have a go?"

Daniel's expression of amazement at her seeming callousness was nothing compared to the absolute emptiness shining out of Jack's eyes. He staggered back a step as if she had physically struck him. His surprise wouldn't have been more complete if she had.

Jack was still shocked into speechlessness. Emotion for her that he couldn't control shone out of his widened eyes for just a moment. They _meant_ something to each other, for crying out loud - everyone knew that, despite the way O'Neill and Carter had endeavored for years to bamboozle the entire base population. In the end, they had bamboozled no one but themselves in spite of their efforts. Everyone knew that they shared on oddly unique relationship, one that was, and one that wasn't. Admittedly, Jack had lived a half life since the arrival on the scene of that guy of Sam's - the one she was marrying. But this...

This was the living end. To ask such a question, in such a place... and to ask it of _him..._ It was murder, plain and simple. Sam had just now spoken to Jack as if he didn't mean anything special to her, and never had. His eyes dimmed as she spoke, his last hope dying under the power of nothing but her voice.

When he found his own voice, it was little more than a thin whisper. "No."

He said it like the reason for his refusal should be more than obvious to her. Her look of puzzled surprise belied what she should have known, however. He only knew that he had to get out of there, pronto. So, he left her and walked out of the Gate Room in a daze, acting on autopilot as he headed in the direction of his office.

The look of bafflement increased on Carter's face. "Is he alright?"

Daniel choked, "Of course not!" His expression of horror increased. How could she do this to _him_, of all people?

"Will you give me away?" Sam asked next of her team mate.

Daniel's horror was complete. "No!" At the first hint of sadness to slip across his friend's eyes, Daniel hastily explained, "I want you to be happy Sam - we all do - but I can't _give _you away - any more than Jack could!"

Sam's blink of surprise showed her incomprehension. "Why? Is something wrong with..?"

Daniel could only stare, aghast. He knew about Sam's capacity for denial, but this was denial taken to an entirely new level! "Because he... he... he doesn't trust you!" Daniel blurted at last, his own need to pointlessly ramble surfacing then. "It would be like _throwing_ you away to... and I can't do that - you're my friend!"

Sam was obviously baffled by first Jack's blunt refusal, then Daniel's emotional denial. She turned to Teal'c. "What do you think?"

Teal'c's response was much quicker than Daniel's had been. "I think you are not Colonel Carter." And he fired his zat straight at her.

Caught by surprise, Sam crumpled to the ramp before she had a ghost of a chance to retaliate. Daniel was able to keep her head from striking the metal beneath her, but his eyes showed his small satisfaction when he wasn't able to do more for her. "Good shot, Teal'c," he murmured before looking up to Walter in the Control Room. "I need a medic! And tell Jack to get back down here!"

The medical team was duly called and on their way. The call to Jack was less successful. The feeling that everything was doomed had fully encompassed the General the second he had left the Gate Room. By the time Teal'c's zatted Colonel Carter, he had already completely disappeared from the SGC.

Daniel was positive that Jack would show himself again. Or at least, he was ninety-nine percent positive. Jack was a tough guy, a fighter - he would never take what Sam had done to him at face value. Eventually he would come to his senses and realize that none of this made sense. Then he would return. It was only a matter of time.

Jack typically avoided emotional situations like this one, but emotional or not, Daniel knew that he _would not_ simply abandon them all to the whims of the Goa'uld. Sooner rather than later he would realize that all was not as it seemed in this crazy scenario, and return.

But the Jack-less days mounted. Nearly a week went by, and no one at the SGC, or in the Air Force as a whole, had seen hide nor hair of him.

"This absence - it isn't like Jack," Daniel stated to Teal'c a week and a half later in the Commissary.

Teal'c calmly regarded him over the fruit he had appropriated for lunch that day. "Perhaps this is the grass that cut the cat in two, DanielJackson," the Jaffa suggested.

Daniel sighed, anxiety about Jack making him unusually irritable. "'The straw that broke the camel's back' - that's what you mean, Teal'c."

Teal'c, being Teal'c, knew this. "Yes," the Jaffa replied, and attacked his fruit with vigor. "O'Neill will return, DanielJackson. When it is time."

The archaeologist heaved a disgruntled sigh. Jack couldn't return fast enough as far as he was concerned.

A week later, Daniel was still waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Unbeknownst to him, Jack had no intention of returning. He didn't care if he was considered AWOL. He didn't care if he was now considered to be a criminal. In fact, he didn't care if TPTB threw him in a prison cell for all eternity. All he knew was that this latest Carter-thing was one thing too many.

Jack just didn't care anymore about anything at all - not the JCS - not the Air Force - not the Goa'uld - hell, not even the never-ending war that Earth had been embroiled in for the last eight years. For the first time in all those war-torn months, Jack no longer cared if they won or lost, if they remained free, or were Goa'ulded. He just didn't care any longer. It didn't pay to care.

And this instant only proved that. Here he was, a desperate man, a man on the edge if not a man over the edge, and TPTB were ignoring the writing on the wall once again. He wanted out, and what had they done? 'Request to retire denied,' was what he got out of the flowery words and legal jargon typed on the Air Force stationary he had just taken from the post office box that he'd rented in Atlanta. It was just like his earlier requests to transfer, and to be arbitrarily reassigned. Denied, all of them. The emergency personal leave that he was currently enjoying was due to expire by the end of the week, at which time he was expected to return to his post at the SGC - President Hayes's orders, via General Hammond's office of Homeworld Security.

Jack gave the paper in his hand a grim shake, thoughts of the Gate Room Carter scene accosting him once again. There was no way that he could return to the SGC, despite what the President had ordered. He couldn't face _her_ again.

But what else could he do? He was being given a direct order by the Commander in Chief of the entire country's armed forces. It was engraved onto his military mind to treat these new orders as unquestionable. But his heart simply wouldn't let him consider fulfilling those orders, in spite of his years worth of military training.

Yet... What else could he do?

The answer to that question burned through Jack's mind like a raging wildfire run amuck: he'd leave. He'd get out of the Air Force, and never come back. It was either that, or...

Jack wouldn't even finish that thought. He knew where thoughts like that led, and even though this was the closest he had come to being the way he'd been after Charlie's... he wasn't there yet.

But he soon would be, especially if he returned to the SGC. That was the one thing sure to push him over the edge he was determined to avoid. So, it was clear: he was just going to have to change the President's mind about those orders.

But how could he do that? How could one man, a man who was desperate to boot, change anything besides the toilet paper in his bathroom?

It would take some kind of a desperate action to make the President change his mind, an action that was part insane, something grand, something slightly nefarious, some big gesture to show that he _had_ to retire, _now,_ or slowly lose his mind. And in order to do that, it was time to let everyone think that this version of Jack O'Neill was his return to that suicidal man who had gone on that first mission to Abydos. He may not quite be that man yet, but no one else knew that, not Daniel, not Teal'c, not Hammond, not the President, and certainly not Carter.

At that thought, an idea blossomed in Jack's mind. It was risky, but then, anything worthwhile was. And it was crazy enough that it just might work. Besides being crazy, it had the added benefit of showing that he now had nothing left to lose.

The bullet missed Hammond by an inch as he was emerging from his car at the Pentagon. George Hammond had the distinct impression that his hair would have ruffled in the bullet's breeze - if he had hair.

The bullet buried itself in the rear passenger tire of his car, causing the tire's air to instantly hiss out of the bullet hole and to mingle with the stunned atmosphere surrounding the car.

That one shot wasn't repeated. As a string of orders were barked by those around him, Hammond stood still, an island amidst chaos, suddenly recalling what had recently transpired at the SGC. Colonel Carter had asked something that was completely unfathomable and unforgivable, especially considering she had asked her request of General O'Neill. As a result, Jack had been gone from the SGC, on leave ever since.

Now this bullet that had seemed to come from nowhere shocked everyone anew. Yet Hammond was pretty sure that the shot had come from Jack, who had obviously intended to miss him all along. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have missed. Hammond knew him well enough to know that.

But no one else would believe that argument when he made it throughout the next week, over and over again. The people of Washington wouldn't listen to him, but instead wanted to rename Jack O'Neill 'Enemy #1.'

A retaliatory sniper was sent in turn to take out Jack O'Neill, no matter his name, before he was able to take out General Hammond. It didn't work. The retaliatory sniper couldn't even find Jack, let alone shoot him. When Hammond returned to his office after what had easily become the worst day of his life second only to the day of his recent heart attack, it was to find a short unsigned letter that was pure Jack O'Neill waiting for him on his desk.

_'For crying out loud, if I didn't want to miss you, I wouldn't have. The fact that no one will let me officially retire, transfer, or leave doesn't mean that I don't want out - make it happen._ _I would hate for my aim to slip - if you know what I mean._

_PS - And tell the goon squad not to bother sending another sniper to finish me off. It makes me twitchy._

Sending another sniper was procedure, though. This time it was someone from O'Neill's own command, someone who knew him, who knew how he thought, what he'd do, who had a deep understanding of what kind of alien weaponry he might have at his disposal.

But General Hammond suspected that another sniper wouldn't do any good, either, even one who reportedly knew General O'Neill so well. He'd sighed in resignation when his arguments about Jack's tactical skills were ignored. Hammond believed his superiors didn't understand what that man had gone through at the hands of someone he had respected and trusted... and, perhaps, loved. O'Neill had found that he couldn't completely trust her any longer, and that had in turn made him depressed, desperate because of it, and thoroughly dangerous. If he said he wanted out, then he wanted out, and no mere sniper was going to be able to change his mind for him.

Three days after that note had been left in the Pentagon (it was still a mystery how General O'Neill had infiltrated the security around one of the most secure buildings next to the White House) Jack made his move. He stormed through the door of Pentagon Meeting Room #12 and leveled his gun right at the neck's of the three uniformed men who immediately jumped in front of Hammond in a bodily attempt at protection. Three quick shots later, the three men were all slumped on the floor with tranquilizer darts protruding from their skin. Hammond was simply sitting in his chair, waiting for Jack, as if knowing that doing anything else was useless.

However, the five men standing at the sides of the room weren't so complacent. They all pulled out guns, meaning to shoot O'Neill at close range, and ultimately apprehend him. As the others in the meeting who weren't already on the floor dove for cover, the bullets of the five men bounced around the room, but didn't touch Jack due to the effects of the personal force shield surrounding him. Hammond briefly wondered how his use of such a shield was even possible without the naquedah necessary to control it already a part of his bodily makeup, but then realized that Jack was using a personal shield alright, but not one of Goa'uld design. He didn't even ask where O'Neill had even gotten such a contraption as the five guards abruptly stopped their assault, afraid of hitting unintended targets.

Jack watched the five ambitious junior officers lay their guns aside, hands raised in surrender, but basically ignored them to focus his attention solely on Hammond. "You still don't get it."

Hammond just sighed in response. "It's not up to me, Jack. My superiors are being fairly dense on the subject of you at the moment."

Jack almost grinned at Hammond's dry tone, but smothered the gesture before it got started. "Then I'll give them some incentive," he said. "I have alien tech at my disposal. I don't care if I had to steal it in order to use it. I don't care if it's classified. I don't care about anything anymore except _I want out_!" And he disappeared in the white light of an Asgard beam just as several more highly armed, highly determined, and highly dangerous commandos from a special forces team swarmed into the room.

The incident already concluded, the team found that not only did they have no prisoner, but O'Neill had managed to make his demands known without hurting a single soul. The secret meeting held at a secret location for the secret defense budget committee was in a shambles, however. It had been a fast attack, from a clearly furious but collected officer.

"Who was that?" demanded the shaking form of some attaché whose name escaped Hammond at the moment.

One of the efficient soldiers replied. "General Jack O'Neill - Air Force."

The cleanup continued as the attaché hissed out a rattling breath. "He's one of _ours_?"

A clipped nod was his answer.

The man blinked again. "I wonder why he's even bothering with proper channels of discharge when he's obviously willing to do anything it takes to get what he wants."

Hammond ignored the anonymous attaché to enigmatically respond, "O'Neill will try the route of his other option next. I want the... artifact... covered 24/7 to..."

But a yell stopped him in mid command. "We just got a call, Sir - it's missing."

The blood drained from Hammond's face, almost as if he was suffering another heart attack, but health concerns weren't the problem this time - the extremely efficient renegade officer that he had on his hands was. "Jack has thought of everything," he wryly stated, though a note of satisfaction also colored his voice. Things were turning out just as he had predicted.

In the end, an official discharge was granted, to the effect that Jack O'Neill could leave the Air Force with all honors intact as long as his threats ceased. The secret arrest scheduled for his discharge ceremony proceeded as to plan, and so did Hammond's own secret plans. Of course, no Jack was waiting around just to get arrested, and Hammond had to admire the man who had thought of everything long before any other human did, even while he was secretly planning other things. He left the discharge ceremony empty-handed, but with the knowledge that at least he'd chosen the most dedicated man he knew for the job of commanding the SGC, and to hopefully take over Homeworld Security when he chose to retire very soon. He wanted more time with his grandchildren before another heart attack finished him for good. But somehow, his ability to predict that Jack O'Neill's tactical skills would be in full use now was little more than cold comfort.

Not to mention that it ended his plans for retirement. As Jack himself would say, 'D'oh.'

As soon as Jack had his discharge papers in hand, the Gate was returned to its proper position as mysteriously as it had been taken in the first place. The only person who knew O'Neill intimately enough to counter such a move was still unconscious in the Infirmary. Daniel was currently keeping watch over this clone?... this copy?... this replicator?... as best he could.

The fact that the Gate had been nicely returned to the SGC didn't bring Daniel the comfort that it should have, however. He'd rather know what was going on. He'd rather know where his friends were. He'd rather have them both back where they belonged, and that none of this mess had ever happened.

Unfortunately, the Universe didn't bother to take into account the wishes of a lone archaeologist.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Eight months later:

Appearing in the personal adds in every major paper in the country, and on every International Internet blog conceivable came the message:

_Starsky_, _All forgiven. SC badly injured. Come home._ _Man Who Knew Hutch_

Starsky? Jack's eyes narrowed as he thought. Hadn't he said years ago that he was Starsky? Hadn't he sent messages to Maybourne in just this way, addressed to 'Hutch?' It was hard to recall the odd moment or two that had occurred so many years ago. But he was pretty sure he was right. He was Starsky. And that meant that Maybourne was Hutch. Which meant that the 'man who knew Hutch' had to be Daniel.

But the Starsky in this situation wasn't buying the whole 'SC badly injured' thing. 'SC' obviously was short for 'Samantha Carter,' but that did nothing to sway Jack. He planned to ignore this little jog to the memory of those bygone SGC days when it was clear that Carter cared for him as much as he did for her. Now was completely different. _As if I'll fall for that line of bull,_ Jack said softly to himself as he carefully folded the newspaper pages back the way they had been, left the paper on the table he'd occupied at the diner in Kentucky he was currently frequenting, then walked out of the diner. An hour later, he was also out of Kentucky.

Two weeks later:

A second message followed the first:

_Starsky,_ _Situation bad. Loki type problem before. SC needs you._ _Man Who Knew Hutch_

This time it was a not-so-certain Jack who pushed his long hair behind his ear before crumpling up the paper, leaving a rotten tip for his server, then stalking out of the restaurant on 10th that he liked, his hands thrust stubbornly into his pockets.

Four more weeks went by before Jack's gaze snagged on a third message that instantly left him shaking from fright:

_Jack,_ _Sam in Denver's Rest Well Nursing Home. Needs you. See her - please._ _Daniel_

Daniel wasn't dumb enough to use his real name like that, not unless it was truly important that he get ahold of him - Jack knew that. He had taught Daniel everything the man knew about stealth and coded messages. The fact that this message was definitely _not_ coded scared Jack half to death. He reluctantly considered the possibility that this message was on the up and up.

Yet he was still Mr. Paranoid, and a tickle of apprehension crossed his brain. Too many people knew about his connection to Daniel and the SGC for him to just blithely believe every word of the personal want add in today's copy of _The Washington Post_. Daniel could have been ordered to use his real name so that Jack would be lured into a false sense of security, and then 'they' could nab him when he revealed himself. It was a scenario that was wholly believable, and one which even Jack realized made him sooooo paranoid.

But if it really _was_ Daniel in this message, and he was being honest, then he was clearly so anxious that he'd forgotten not to use his real name. And if the Daniel in the message was real, that meant that the message itself was real, and that meant that something truly awful had happened to Carter. That in turn frightened Jack plenty!

Yet, there was that annoying tickle again. Jack still burned from the last time he had seen any of his former team mates. The swift and intense anger he felt at being treated so cavalierly by Carter... and in front of everyone at that!... bore too much importance to him to automatically give this message any more credibility than he had the other two. In fact, the memory of Carter's last question severely turned his stomach the second he thought about that scene so long ago in the Gate Room.

He had re-created that scene down to the finest detail that he could remember so many times now that he had long since memorized his version of it. But what he still didn't get was _why_ it had occurred in the first place. There had been a strange kind of truce called between him and her months earlier when Carter had become engaged. So what had pushed her into asking what she had asked when she had asked it?

It was as if she wanted to flaunt Jack's heartache in his face. She had to know about the truce they had made, the pact to never admit the reason for the truce in the first place, maybe not even to themselves. Still, she had to understand his heartache on some level... yet she had seemed so... oblivious... at the time. It didn't make any sense at all.

No more sense than Daniel leaving obscure messages in obscure newspapers. No, this couldn't be Daniel - could it? Once more, Jack tried to convince himself that this was just some yahoo using the lure of Samantha Carter to bring him out in the open so that he could be nabbed with ease. Wouldn't that make Kinsey's day!

Only half convinced one way or the other, Jack still had the urge to see a barber and begin the process of becoming more presentable. On the lookout for the nearest barber shop, he traded the newspaper and interior of the restaurant he was currently favoring for the sun shining down on Oklahoma. If he did decide to go see Carter (and he still wasn't sure that's what he was going to do), he wanted to not look like a refugee from Abydos while he did it.

He wasn't a refugee, anyway. Not in the strictest sense, though he supposed that outwardly threatening such a high ranking officer as Hammond hadn't done much for his overall popularity. He wasn't on the run... not exactly, he told himself. He _chose_ to move around like this, he _chose_ to be apart from the only true friends he'd had in recent years.

Right?

And this message in the paper was nothing but another lame-ass attempt to get him to feel comfortable enough to expose himself, where some trumped up charge would be laid at his feet when they arrested him. Not that he'd really done anything wrong... not exactly. His discharge from the Air Force was fair and square. Or at least it had been square, if not entirely fair. He carried his discharge papers in his pants pocket even now. Those papers went where he went.

Yet his respect for Harry Maybourne was growing by the day. No wonder he had chosen to become King Arkhan the First. This life of being alone was freedom personified, but had been more appealing to Jack at the beginning of this kind of life than it was now. In one minute, he grew tired of all the skulduggery and hiding and living like a man on the run.

He supposed it was time to go home. He could see for himself if Carter was at the Rest Well Nursing Home. Then he would know whether any of this was a valid situation or not.

What was she possibly doing at a nursing home, anyway? And what kind of stupid name was the 'Rest Well Nursing Home?' That even sounded like whoever had written the message had made it up on the spot. Something like that couldn't be real. Could it?

Well... Hair cut first. Purchase a set of casing binoculars, second. Then he could see if this Rest Well Nursing Home was real. If it turned out to be legit, he would then take out the officers that were certainly surrounding it so that he could stake it out in hopes of seeing either Carter herself, or someone else he knew. Maybe he would even talk to Daniel and find out what was going on. Maybe.

It was a plan. Sort of. At least, it was as much of a plan as he usually had. As he sauntered in the direction he hoped would lead him to a barber shop, Jack wryly wondered why he felt compelled to immediately begin the formulation of a plan B. It was as if he already expected the worst to happen, thus nullifying plan A. Any outsider would think that 'the worst' for Jack meant that he was walking into a situation where he would be captured. However, for Jack, the undeniable worst thing that could happen would definitely be for him to discover that those messages were very legit, that something bad had happened to Carter, who Jack still cared about, no matter what heinous things she had done in the past.

He tried once again to raise the anger he usually felt the second he thought of that scene in the Gate Room. His anger stirred, but it was a laughably lukewarm attempt at self-righteous fury. Jack's insides curdled in anxiety instead, and he found that he couldn't get to Denver fast enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Rest Well Nursing Home was indeed real, located at the mouth of a valley at the juncture of two swift moving creeks. The currents slowed before they reached the confines of the nursing home grounds, and the tranquil tinkling as the water slipped over moss covered rocks and through pools shaded by aspen and pine mocked Jack as he crouched on the ground several hundred yards away from the nursing home's main building. The pair of binoculars that he'd bought in Oklahoma dangled from a string worn round his neck, threatening to strangle him before he got completely situated for this stakeout. As he sat in the dirt on the hillside, he wondered how long his knee would take this kind of abuse.

His hiding place was good, the best vantage point he could find... considering. Whoever was after him had yet to show themselves - that is, _if_ someone was after him - which didn't seem to be the case, as Jack hadn't been able to find anybody staking out his stakeout location. If those people existed - even though a special forces General hadn't been able to find them - they would expect him to use at least three different viewing spots in the surrounding countryside, since all three offered better sight than this one did. But those other three sites would surely be covered. Which was why he had chosen this fourth, not so excellent spot to watch from. There were several cars in the parking lot in the way of an unimpeded view of the nursing home entrance, but the parking lot entrance itself was unencumbered, and it was there where most of his interest lay... for now, at least.

But nothing happened that entire first day that Jack lay in wait. Or the second. Or the third. He changed his stakeout spot at least once a day, just to keep any potential watchers on their toes, but it didn't provide the necessary sitings to soothe his concerns.

Jack was just about to call it quits on the afternoon of the fourth day of his stakeout when he unexpectedly struck paydirt. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but he didn't pay it much mind as a familiar looking SUV abruptly pulled into the lot. The driver parked the vehicle in the third row, then climbed from the car. Jack watched in numb fury as none other than Pete Shanahan strode into the facility and vanished from view.

Of all the people he had to see first, why did it have to be _him_? Just the sight of that man made Jack's blood boil. Gone were the days where he lied to himself, saying that he just wanted Carter to be happy with any man, even if that man wasn't him. Now he was honest enough to admit at least to himself that he thought the guy Carter had chosen as her 'any man' was Jerk Numero Uno, that he had never been good enough for Carter, that his excuses were as flimsy as his alibis had ever been, and that he was one fry short of convincing _this_ particular ex-military man to give him an inch of anything but complete and total distrust.

And he was here because..? Oh yeah, because by now Carter must have found someone to 'give her away' to this jerk, and had actually married him. That is, as long as Carter was here at this nursing home, too. As if she truly needed to be in a nursing home. Yet if those newspaper messages were true...

The importance of the truth of those messages was again eclipsed as that horrible Gate Room scene filled his mind. At the time, Carter had been so... so... ugh! How could she even expect that he would answer a question like she had asked? How could he just give her away like she didn't mean anything to him at all? Didn't the fact that he had once voiced the evidence of an emotional tie to her deserve some amount of respect? It had been more like her over the months preceding that Gate Room scene to skirt around the issue of the life she had found outside the SGC as if that life depended on it. But the way she had shown _no_ respect for their shared though unspoken vow had been so... not like her at all.

Now, when the thunder sounded low over his shoulders, everything he owned in the world about to be swamped in a deluge of astronomical proportions, he could finally at least say the words in his own mind: Jack was Sam's, now and forever. As much as he would like it to be otherwise, especially lately, he was simply never going to be free of her. Sam was as much a part of Jack as his breath. End of story.

At that point, Jack knew that he wouldn't rest easy unless he saw Carter for himself. He peered through the binoculars, keeping his ear trained on his surroundings at all times. The storm moved ever closer as the minutes ticked by. Five. Six.

Ten minutes had gone by before Shanahan appeared again. He moved with stooped shoulders, but with a sense of steely determination. He climbed wearily into his SUV, and banged the driver's door shut. With the help of the binoculars, Jack shamelessly spied on him through the drivers' side window that reflected the cloudy sky above. He saw the cop pause for a moment, a sorrowful look on his face. He angrily struck out at the steering wheel once, twice. He looked to Jack like he was breathing heavily, hissing at the emptiness inside his truck. He ground his hand against the wheel, and shook his head.

Jack watched as Pete clenched his teeth to slowly regained his emotional control. He finally drove out of sight down the shaded drive. The engine had barely had time to cool while he'd been inside, yet the difference the visit had made to his mood was striking.

A minute later, Jack was still wondering about what had changed the man's mood so completely. Jack was still alone, and again sizing up the coming rainstorm, deciding if he should leave now, since he had finally seen someone he knew. Or should he stay for another few minutes to watch this new person, and risk getting wet? His one set of spare clothes were in a plastic bag in his backpack, as were his other pair of shoes, so they would probably stay dry. He'd learned the hard way on his many missions for the Air Force about the importance of keeping things dry, but in all that time, he had never figured out how to waterproof the pack itself. He didn't relish the idea of hauling around a waterlogged pack on his shoulders. Experience told him that if it got wet, the blisters on his shoulders would get rubbed raw to make way for new blisters.

Then, as he stared at the building the cop had just vacated, further movement caught his eye now. The hydraulic double doors moving aside that had caught his interest before finished hissing apart, and Sam Carter herself appeared on a paved garden terrace that had been placed aside for nursing home residents.

Jack's heart leapt into his throat at the sight of her. Instantly annoyed at the reaction, he stilled as she continued to move forward. How she did that moving made him quietly gasp a breath, then let it out in a long, slow hissing sound that imitated the hydraulic doors that had just closed.

Sam's manual wheelchair crawled forward in jerky movements, gliding to a stop at the edge of the terrace where the pavement met the mowed grass. A stillness that Jack didn't link to her followed her through the door. When he'd seen her in the years before, she'd always been filled with a blinding energy, bent over some alien device or other, transfixed by its inner workings, her entire body alight with the glow of her curiosity. If he concentrated hard enough, he had always been able to see imaginary steam pour out of her ears as he actually watched the thoughts mix in her mind. Being able to see the physical manifestations of her thinking process had been one of the things that he loved about her.

Now, however, the lack of motion he saw in her was alarming. It was almost as if she was too sad to move. That aura of serenity (or depression - or anger - Jack couldn't be sure what it was without talking to her first) seemed eerie in its totality. She naturally didn't stand up once she rolled to a stop, but only stared with unseeing blue eyes at the nothing that stretched out before her. She rubbed at her lower legs, and Jack grimaced just as she did.

Her probing hand pushed against the solid flesh of her right leg, then moved to the cavity displayed by her empty pants leg hanging down on her left. Jack had witnessed enough similar injuries to know that her left leg was gone below the knee. She rubbed at that knee with harsh, grinding motions, then raised that hand to also rub at her forehead in dispirited circles. Jack watched her grimace again, right before her expression changed. Now she reveled at the gusts of wind that tore at her hair, as if intensely liking the raw release of power that the storm promised, but not wanting to share it with anyone.

Jack immediately wanted to get a closer look at her. Forgotten was the anger and shock he'd felt at their last shared meeting. Now he found that he just wanted to stare at her in unending adulation. Which was ridiculous. He'd thought that he was going to be angry at Samantha Carter for eternity. It was disconcerting to find out that all he had to do was look at her just once for his anger to disappear like a poof of smoke.

Jack crept close enough to her to hear the angry sigh she issued. Oh, yeah, she was angry - now he could see it in the way she held her lips to a tight line, in the way she rubbed with such control at her forehead. He expected her to do something with all that pent up angry energy, but she didn't do anything. It was downright eerie to watch someone be so quiet, especially when that someone was her.

That controlled silence ended a moment later as suddenly the cop joined her on the tiny patio. When had he come back? Jack had been so enamored with watching Carter that he had missed the SUV's second approach to the nursing home.

The gusts now tangled Sam's blonde hair about her face as she wheeled around to stare right at the cop. Gone was the lack of motion from before. Now she looked like a coiled spring about to burst apart. When she spoke, Jack wouldn't have believed such an unfriendly tone could come from her if he hadn't heard it for himself.

"Why did you come back?" she asked. "I thought I'd made my position clear."

Shanahan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "You were plenty clear. It's just..." He looked completely exasperated. "You have to admit that the whole story you're telling me just doesn't wash. How do you expect me to believe something so... preposterous?"

Sam growled low in her throat. "I can't help it if you won't believe the truth."

Pete's exasperation grew until he finally beseeched, "Sam, what do you want from me?"

Sam's glacial voice carried on the wind. "You know what I want - a divorce."

His earlier beseeching gave way to another look of frustration. "You know I can't give you that. Doctor Stubs warned me that..."

"I don't _care_ what Doctor Stubs says!"

"You're not being reasonable, Sam," Shanahan said, a tired sound in his voice giving Jack the idea that this subject had been argued about so often that both of them were tired of hearing what the other had to say about it.

Sam immediately spoke, "I'm fine, as you both know! It wasn't my head that I lost - it was my leg!"

The cop gave his own jerk of aggravation. "That's your depression talking."

Sam clenched her teeth. "If I'm depressed, it's because neither of you will listen!"

"It's you who isn't listening!" Shanahan bit back to her. "I hear that you're not doing your therapy, and you know that if you don't do your therapy, you'll never get me to believe that anything with you has changed, and you need me to..."

"What they do here isn't therapy, as I've told you before. This place's idea of therapy is putting puzzles of puppy dogs together in the rec room once a week. I need daily therapy that's useful, not some dumb activity to pass the time!"

Shanahan growled in supreme irritation. "The vows we took said 'For better or worse,' Sam. I intend to stay right by you through this, no matter how awful you are to me and everyone else."

Sam exploded as much as a person in a wheelchair could. "It wasn't me who married you! How many times do I have to tell you that!"

Pete groaned out his frustration. "Of course it was you, Sam! I was there! That's just your meds talking again! We..."

Sam gave a sardonic barking laugh. "You'd think that after all the time we were together, you'd finally comprehend how strange my job is, and I tell you, it looked like me, but it wasn't me!"

"Sam, you..."

"Daniel told me what happened in the Gate Room, what I... she... it... said that made him and Teal'c both know that they were staring at an impostor - it just took awhile for them to prove it. If they knew what was going on, why don't you?" Her glare mirrored the darkened sky. "Why is it that the man who is supposed to be the closest person to me can't see the writing on the wall?"

Shanahan's frustration morphed to anger. "Why didn't that General of yours know then, huh, Sam? You yourself have told me before that even he knew you so well that you two used to complete each other's sentences. Why didn't he stay and prove that you were an impostor instead of shooting his brains out like he ended up doing?"

Jack gave a start of his own - Sam thought he'd shot his brains out? That he was _dead?_ Well, that explained why she'd never tried to contact him.

Jack was so stunned at this news that he almost forgot to watch what Sam was doing now.

Riled, Sam demanded of Pete, "Don't talk about what he did like it was..!"

Shanahan cut her off to belligerently say, "He couldn't cope, and you know it!" Sam didn't respond to his last comment, while Jack sat behind a bush still thinking incredulous thoughts: if he was dead, how had he been discharged from the Air Force? What _were_ those papers he carried around in his wallet? Fakes?

He couldn't check now - Shanahan was going on in an acrimonious voice, and Jack didn't want to miss anything that might turn out to be important. "Sam, we've been over this! You married me - you were there, I was there, there was no impostor that I could perceive. And as your husband, I have the final say right now - you aren't acting rationally! You aren't..."

"No!" Sam's voice cracked across the vacant ground like a whip. "The irrational thing that you claim I did was to marry you in the first place! I had already broken things off with you before that mission where I supposedly started this whole thing by saying to... in the middle of the...!" She didn't put voice to what had happened, as if she couldn't. "Don't you find it strange that I suddenly agreed to marry you when the last thing I said to you was..?"

"You don't have to repeat it, Sam!" raged Pete. "I was there!"

Jack imagined that he could hear Sam's teeth grinding even from his position several feet away in the bushes. "If you were there, then why didn't you..?"

Pete appeared to resolve into that man of steely determination again that Jack had seen earlier. "We're married - that's all there is to it. Get over this fantasy of yours, Sam. I'm your husband. I have power of attorney over your actions, and it takes my signature to permanently take you out of here. In order for me to sign off on that, you have to convince me that you're completely in your right mind. And right now, you're not convincing me that you're even _close_ to being in your right mind."

"My right mind?" Sam gasped in incredulity. "I was captured, tortured, duplicated, my memories picked through like trash at a garage sale! Of course I wasn't in my right mind when I first saw you again!"

Jack blanched. She had been _what?_

"But you are now, huh?" asked a disbelieving Shanahan.

"Damn straight I am!" Sam snarled. "Enough to want out of this nut house full of old people!"

The determination firmed when the cop stood up tall against the mountain backdrop. "The Sam Carter I know would never care about how old people are," Pete announced.

Sam ran a hand through her wind blown hair in utter exasperation as Pete went on. "I agree with Doctor Stubs - you're still not in your right mind, and what you just said proves it. All this talk of duplicating and cloning... it's not normal, now is it? Why can't you see..?"

"And why can't _you_ see that all you're interested in is showing me off to those idiot friends of yours! I'm not the trophy that you can pass around anymore, and that's what's really pissing you off!"

Pete sighed once again, resigned. "Sam, until you start making sense, I can't and won't sign the forms for your release. And there's no way that I can give you a divorce and leave you on your own when you're talking crazy like this. The answer is no to the divorce." He turned away, prepared to go back in through the door.

Sam nastily shot back at him, "If you're going to leave me here, then leave! Don't bother coming back!"

Shanahan heaved a tired sigh. "You know I'll be here, Sam, just like I always am. I can't leave you in..."

"Of course you can't!" Sam spat. "How would that make you _look?_"

Without another word, Pete simply turned to retreat through the door. It's quiet swish as it shut was at odds to the vibrant argument that it had cut off.

Sam heaved in breath, but didn't follow Shanahan. She didn't do anything, really, not even cry, or strike something in anger with her fists, or scream her obvious frustration into the surrounding silence.

Rumbling thunder cut that silence short. Suddenly spurred to movement, she dug through her right pants pocket until she pulled a cell phone forth. She snorted in dark amusement as she opened it and instructed it to dial a number, still cackling. "Hey, Daniel, it's me," she said into it after a moment had gone by.

Daniel on the other end must have commented on the amusement in her voice, for she next explained, "I was finding it really humorous that Pete made sure this cell phone was activated so that I could call him if I ever needed anything - and I haven't called or texted him once in all this time, but I've used it many, many times to call you instead. I was laughing at the irony of that."

Daniel made a quick reply, which Jack had no trouble hearing now that the thunder had passed. "That _is_ funny - but telling me about ironic cell phone accounts isn't why you called - what's up?"

Sam once more ran a hand through her hair in frustration, her attention recaptured by the fight she'd just had. "Pete was here again, and I asked for a divorce again, and he said that I'm crazy again, and that it'll be a dark day in hell before he gives me what I want."

Daniel's sigh carried over to the crouching Jack hiding in the bushes. "Have you ever thought that maybe the direct approach isn't the best way to weasel a divorce from him? Maybe if you..." What he said was lost as more thunder grumbled through the air, louder this time than it had been before. The wind blew crazily, tossing Sam's hair about like it was straw.

Carter used her left hand to try to keep her hair out of her mouth as she responded to Daniel's suggestion. "I thought of that, Daniel, but I guess I'm too into the direct approach - that soft stuff never worked for Jack, and it doesn't work for me, either. He always left that stuff up to you, and I never blamed him for it."

The thunder was echoing off into the distance once more, so Jack heard Daniel laugh, then say, "Yeah, Jack always was good at the direct approach. He claimed that I was always the one to get us into trouble, but just as often, it was him and that dumb mouth of his."

Carter grinned affectionately. "Yeah, he did have a way of saying the worst possible thing at the worst possible moment."

Daniel chuckled. "Teal'c and I used to count how many hours it would take for Jack to piss off the natives."

Carter laughed. "And he never found out?"

"Not that I..." Rumble, rumble, crash, boom.

"Oh, sorry," Sam said in apology. "There's going to be a storm here any minute. That was just the thunder you heard."

"Are you outside again?" The alarm in Daniel's voice was unmistakable. "Get inside, quick! You don't want to almost get hit by lightening again!" he warned.

Sam sighed her resignation. "That was just a freak accident, Daniel."

"Huh!" he expostulated. "Freak accidents seem to follow SG-1 around like the plague!"

Sam's resignation now turned to regret. "There is no SG-1 anymore, Daniel. You know that."

Daniel's tone was now full of that same regret. "Yeah. Teal'c's out with the Jaffa, you're stuck in there now, and Jack..."

"Jack's dead." Carter's voice was as dead as she claimed her former CO was. "God, I miss him," she was saying next while Jack was busy poking himself to make sure that he wasn't as dead as she claimed. "I keep expecting him to ring in here some boring afternoon and say, 'Hey, Carter, whatchadoin?'"

Daniel laughed. "That does sound like Jack. But only if he says the word 'doohickey' in that same sentence, one started off with a 'For crying out loud!'"

Sam giggled. "He'd say next 'What's an egghead like you doin' in a place like this?'" For a moment Sam and Daniel laughed together. Then Sam abruptly grew more quiet. "Oh, that was a raindrop. I'm getting wet."

"Better go in," Daniel instructed her. "I'll talk to you again this weekend."

"Ok - talk to you later," Sam said into the phone, snapped it shut, replaced it in her pocket, then wheeled back the way she had come. The double doors hissed shut just as the heavens opened up to dump loads of water everywhere.

Jack was soaked in seconds. His pack was soaked faster than he was. But he had seen Carter, and seen her interacting with the old team in her old teasing way. As far as he was concerned, getting wet was completely worth it!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Daniel opened the door to his bathroom at 0430 the next morning and flicked on the fan light, clearly intending to take his daily shower. Only he found a certain General sitting on his covered toilet, waiting just for him to make an appearance.

"Ah! " he screamed, and clutched at his chest. "Geez! Jack! What the hell do you want?"

Jack scowled. "Well, that's nice. And a hello to you, too, Daniel."

Daniel was instantly incensed. "I don't believe this! You disappear for eight..."

"Almost nine."

Daniel didn't take the correction with much equanimity. "Jack!" he bellowed, so loud that Jack hushed him. He marginally lowered his voice. "What are you doing here?"

Jack's scowl was again in evidence. "That should be obvious, Daniel. It was _you_ who put those stupid adds in the papers all over the country, after all. Didn't you want me to show up here?"

"Well, yeah!" Daniel exclaimed. "But I never thought you would really see those adds! Or follow up on them!"

Jack's scowl was becoming etched onto his face. "Well, you bellowed, I came. Now - tell me what happened to Carter."

Daniel calmed the second that Jack mentioned Sam. "You've seen her?" he next asked with hope coloring his voice.

"Yeah." Jack wriggled around to find a more comfortable position on the toilet. "After that last add you left, how could I not come?"

"I thought that last add would make a difference to you," Daniel admitted. "I figured that if that didn't bring you out of wherever you've been for the last eight...'

"Nine."

"... months, nothing would."

"Daniel," Jack growled in single-minded intensity, warning his friend not to let himself get distracted. "Carter - what gives?"

Daniel's regretful sigh washed through the room. "It's a long story."

Jack smirked and waved his arms around. "I've got all the free time I want."

Daniel protested, "But I have a mission briefing in two hours, and it takes me almost that long to wake up, get ready for the day, and drive in to the SGC."

Taken aback, Jack blinked up at him in surprise. "What do you _do_ with all that time?"

"Drink coffee," Daniel dryly replied. "But I'll take it with me this morning." He sat down at the side of the tub, facing Jack. "Ok. What do you want to know?"

Jack sighed and scrubbed at his head. The action reminded him that he hadn't washed his hair in several days. Oh, well, it wasn't the first time Daniel had seen him a bit on the grungy side. "First off, what's Carter doing in that..?"

Daniel interrupted. "In that heap for retired folk?"

"Yeah."

Daniel's grunt was short. "Pete put her in there the minute she was released from the Infirmary."

Jack's scowl was so pronounced, it made his eyebrow scar stand out even more than it usually did. "And just why was she in the Infirmary to begin with? As I recall, she seemed to be in perfect health the last time I saw her."

"The last time..?" Daniel gave a humorless bark of laughter, then wearily rubbed his hand over his face. "It's too early in the morning for this."

"Tell me about it anyway," Jack ordered, refusing to let even an ounce of remorse for Daniel fill him.

Daniel noted the determination in Jack's voice, and gave in as gracefully as he could. "That day in the Gate Room..."

_The less said about that day, the better_. "I'm interested in what happened after that."

But Daniel persisted. "That's where this story starts, Jack. You told me that you wanted to hear it all - then you've got to hear this, too." He doggedly repeated, "That day in the Gate Room, the one with Sam and what she said..."

Looking down, almost embarrassed, Jack admitted, "It took a long time for me to get over that day, ya know, Daniel." He looked up, pain brimming like tears in his eyes, a strangely vulnerable expression for Jack to let anybody see. "I wasn't really able to move passed it until the moment that I saw Carter."

"That day wasn't her fault," Daniel earnestly stated.

"I know that now," Jack told him. "Something about clones..?" He didn't finish his question, but at last asked, "Why did that day happen in the first place?"

Daniel sighed in resignation. "You're not going to like this - it was Ba'al."

_Ba'al?_ Jack gave an uncontrollable shiver, then visibly collected himself. "Alright - what about him?"

Daniel continued once Jack grew quiet enough to prove that he was ready to listen. "He'd captured Sam, and Teal'c and I didn't even know it. The Jaffa used stealth for the first time in Teal'c's memory. They kidnapped Sam early in the night, took her to their ship where Ba'al cloned her, gave her clone just enough memories to pass as Samantha Carter, then put the clone in her place. Teal'c saw through it after she asked what she asked you at the bottom of the Stargate ramp, but by then it was too late - you were already gone."

Jack went ballistic. "How in _God's_ name did he do the clone thing?!" he shouted, forgetting his own directive from a moment earlier for Daniel to be quiet. Luckily, the whirring of the bathroom fan dampened most of his voice. "I thought cloning was more Loki's style than Ba'al's."

Daniel barked a second humorless laugh. "Yeah, well, Loki hasn't got anything on Ba'al, 'cause if his intention was to hurt you with this clone rather than just collect data about you, he got exactly what he wanted."

Jack did a double take as his heart actually stopped for several beats and the blood drained from his face. What had happened to her... it had been... because of _him_? "You mean..?"

"Yeah," Daniel sent a grim look his way. "You were already outta there before clone-Sam was sent to the Infirmary because Teal'c zatted her. We had the devil's own time convincing everybody about the clone thing, by the way - it wasn't just you who bought into her act." He emphatically said, "It looked just like her! It sounded like her! It knew what she knew! At least, some of it." He groaned and ground his fingers into his eyes. "Honestly, even Teal'c and I were half convinced that we were going insane."

Jack's brows crawled halfway up his forehead. "But? How did you prove it was a fake?"

"Besides being sure that Sam would _never_ say that to you?" he rhetorically asked before going on. "We tried and tried to trip it up, but each time we did, no one was around to hear it. I finally called General Hammond in DC out of desperation to pull that classified file on Jon O'Neill in order to prove that Jon's brain waves were close to yours, like the clone's brain waves were close to Sam's, but not quite right."

Jack's forehead creased in confusion. "But I thought those funky brain thingies were because Thor and his buddies put that thing in me that stopped me from being cloned."

Daniel rolled his eyes in exasperation. "We found out that Thor... How should I put this?" he muttered to himself. Louder, he said, "Thor wasn't _wrong_ in saying that... but he wasn't exactly right, either."

Jack's forehead creases were quickly becoming permanent. "Meaning... what?"

"Meaning... there is something inside you that keeps you from being successfully cloned... but it's not what caused the funky brain waves."

Jack was getting tired of Daniel's beating about the bush. "Meaning...?"

Seeing Jack's patience erode like a riverbed in the monsoon season, Daniel hurried to tell him, "Meaning that we could record those brain waves and see who was cloned and who wasn't... when you knew what to look for." He gave a dramatic sigh. "It's times like those that I really miss Janet."

But Jack refused to walk down memory lane with him. "Daniel! So help me, if you don't tell me what happened in the next two seconds, I'll..."

Successfully threatened, Daniel rushed to say, "Hammond's talk to the doctors was very illuminating, shall we say - on several fronts." He rolled his eyes in sarcastic disapproval, a small smile of sick appreciation tugging at his lips. "But Ba'al had the last laugh on us."

Daniel's tone of doom didn't do anything to calm Jack down. "You're freaking me out, Daniel. You always get that dire look about you when you're gonna reveal something that I don't want to hear. Just spit it out!"

Daniel did practically spit. "A whole bunch of things happened at the same time. By the time that Hammond got to the SGC, SG-1 had just gotten back from a mission where Sam-the-clone... died." Daniel gave a shudder, as if remembering that day, and though he must know by now that none of it had really happened, the memories were obviously still nightmarish enough. "Little did we know that while Teal'c and I were in the Briefing Room, telling the General all about that awful mission, realSam would suddenly come tumbling through the Gate. Seems that the clone had been in contact with old Ba'al the whole time, and every one of the problems we'd been having with sabotage - the Gate mysteriously breaking down, a bout of food poisoning - Ba'al and his clone did it all. He gave her orders through one of those round thingies..."

"Communication globes."

Daniel let it pass that for once Jack was correcting _him_ for not being more specific about calling something its proper name. "He had Sam dumped on some planet, along with her GDO and some Jaffa, who gave her just enough time to input the Iris code with her GDO before they simply threw her back through the Gate. They weren't even interested in getting the iris codes from her. Ba'al just wanted the Sam-clone to hurt _you_, and it did, right after it showed up." Daniel glowered, remembering. "It was the real Sam's GDO that told us that Ba'al just let her go after he'd been torturing her for months. And worst of all," he noted in a sour voice, "Ba'al made sure her leg was..." But his narrative stopped right there.

Jack did the eyebrow raise again in order to cover his own growing horror - he had seen what had happened to her leg. "For no reason?"

Daniel's snort again lacked humor. "The best we can figure, he did it because he could, because he was still mad at you for escaping his fortress that time he captured you and wanted you to pay, that if he permanently hurt _her_, then he permanently hurt _you_."

"Crap!" Jack swore, sickened anew at the unwitting part he'd played in Ba'al's plans. Killing her would actually have been kinder, both to her and to him. But Jack had intimate knowledge of Ba'al's penchant for not killing his prisoners. Death was too much of an escape for the likes of him.

Nauseated, Jack asked, "Ba'al really did that on purpose?"

Daniel nodded. "Sam was awake through the whole leg thing, then was thrown into a cell and left on her own when they were done." Daniel shivered, letting Jack know that he was hardly unaffected by his own memories of that time. "It was all she could do to put on a tourniquet and bandage before passing out." He swiped at suspiciously bright eyes with the back of his hand. "She might have bled to death, and not one of those Jaffa gave a damn."

Jack didn't comment, but his horrified facial expression did the talking for him. "But that isn't all, is it Daniel?" He was thinking now about Shanahan. "That cop said that he's Sam's husband - but she says different."

Daniel grimaced, forced to recall more recent events. "The Sam clone... she married the guy just like Sam was planning to."

"But it wasn't Sam." Jack shook his head, then corrected himself. "Carter."

"You got a discharge, Jack," Daniel impatiently remonstrated. "Knock it off with the Carter thing."

"Oh, I forgot." Thankfully distracted from thinking about a dead Carter, or a live legless Carter, or even a live Carter clone, Jack dug in his back pocket for a second, pulling out a battered wallet. "Picked this up in Buenos Ares," he casually remarked.

It was Daniel's turn to scowl. "What were you doing in Buenos Ares?"

"That's where Thor set me down," Jack explained, as if he didn't need to explain anything more to Daniel, who just scowled harder, encouraging Jack to tell more of his own story. "Thor was a big help with getting the discharge, but he wasn't so good at choosing the right continent to stick me on at the end of it all." Jack's shrug said that there was more to this story, but Daniel was going to have to be content with what he was willing to divulge. "At least he picked a place where the people speak a language that I do. If I'd ended up in China or something, I would have been screwed in under 40 minutes." He pulled a creased form out of the back of the picture portion of the wallet and smoothed it out on his leg, looked, then gave a thunderous grunt. "That old son of a gun!"

"What?"

Jack held out the paper for Daniel to take. "He signed it 'Lawrencant Geronial George Hammond!'"

Daniel's brows rose. "Is that really his full name?"

"I have no idea!" Jack barked. "The point is that I never bothered to really look at the signature before now. I thought it said 'Lieutenant General George Hammond,'just like it's supposed to!"

Daniel studied the paper in his hand. "This looks to me like a typical discharge form."

"It is!"

Exasperated, Daniel said, "Ok, I'll bite: why isn't this an okay thing?"

"Because, Daniel, it means that my discharge papers weren't signed correctly! Which means I never got discharged from the Air Force!"

Daniel seemed only mildly intrigued by this newsflash. "Huh. Wonder if you've been AWOL these last nine months."

Jack was incensed. "I don't care! I told him that I wanted out, and..!"

"But don't you see what this means, Jack?"

"No!"

Daniel looked as if Christmas had come early. "This means that you're still a General! Can't you do something to get Sam out of that place she's in? Something like, I don't know, like..."

Jack sighed a sad woosh of air. "Carter's been given a medical discharge by now, or I don't know the military. You say she's married to that idiot of hers." Daniel nodded. "Then she's his problem, not the Air Force's thing to deal with. Being a General still does nothing for her, or for me, besides giving me constant indigestion."

Daniel wilted where he sat. "Oh. I was just hoping..." He hung his head, then looked at Jack with a doleful expression. "She's going nuts in there. There's nothing for her to do, nowhere for her to go. She got the idea for the divorce thing, but Pete won't listen to her, just says she's nuts..."

"Yeah, I heard them fighting about it," Jack reminded him. "She sounded..."

Daniel gave a wan smile, as if this left a bad taste in his mouth. "Bitter," he bluntly announced.

"Yeah."

Daniel grimaced. "I don't blame her, really. She's had it hard for a long time."

Jack considered. There Carter was, stuck in that awful... And stuck without a leg, too! That must be terrible to have to adjust to that kind of a... And now that he carefully thought about it, she had lost so much more than just her leg: the Air Force had surely discharged her by now. And a discharge - to someone of Carter's mind-set - where her work was her life... So from her standpoint, she had lost her job, her career, all her friends associated with that job, her leg, her independence - everything.

For crying out loud - no wonder she sounded bitter!

Daniel's head shake was mournful. "It's terrible, Jack. She spent the first week fixing every broken gadget in the place, and hasn't hardly spoken now for months, except to call me every now and then, and to go through the whole clone angle with Pete. But Pete's not buying it."

Jack's brow furrowed. "Yeah, what's with him, anyway? Something crawl up his... or what?

Daniel dryly snorted. "Something like that."

"She thinks I'm dead," Jack abruptly announced.

Daniel winced. "Yeah. That would be my fault."

"_Your_ fault?"

Daniel gusted a guilty explosion of air. "You didn't see her when she came back, Jack. She was half beside herself with pain... But the first person she asked about was you - if you were all right. Seems she thought that Ba'al had captured you, too, and killed you." Daniel shrugged. "So I let her think that. With the real Sam being in such a bad way, how could I tell her what her clone thing had said to you, or about what you'd done because of it?" He shrugged again. "Why not let her think Ba'al had got to you? It was better than letting her think that she had caused the whole situation. Or her clone had," he corrected himself. "Knowing about any of that would have killed her right then and there - and I couldn't let that happen." His mournful voice was now edged with steel. "I wouldn't."

"Killed _her_? She thinks _I'm_ the one who's dead!"

"I didn't tell her that, honest!" Daniel held his hand out, beseeching. "All I did was sort of... not tell her what really happened." Then he gave a wince, as if guilt had momentarily taken him over. "When she was better... er, stronger, I... I told her what really happened." He adopted an air of apology. "She... sort of jumped to the conclusion that you had committed suicide."

Jack snarled at Daniel, "And you let her!"

Daniel simply glared back. "What should I have done? My first responsibility was to Sam, to her state of mind! Besides, even you have to admit, suicide is something you would do."

Jack winced at what Daniel was referring to. "Yeah, but that last time was because of Charlie!" he exclaimed. "I haven't even considered it once since then!" Not even really because of what the clone had said, though he'd let everyone believe just that.

Daniel gave another aggravated jump. "That clone thing had to have killed every last hope you had left that day in the Gate Room!" he exclaimed in self defense. "It wasn't such a big leap for realSam to think that you'd killed yourself because of what cloneSam had said!"

Jack had to concede that what he'd said was true, and after a thoughtful moment, nodded. "But you let her think..."

Finally angry, Daniel jumped up. "Don't you get it? Until we could prove the clone part, real or not, that clone basically _was_ her!"

Jack protested, "But Carter didn't..."

"It doesn't matter what Sam said or didn't say! It matters what everyone thinks she said! And the whole Gate Room heard her ask you to give her away like... like you don't care! But every last one of us knows very well that you did care... do care... a lot!"

"Hang on, there, Danny-boy!" Jack gave his own irate jump to his feet. Those on SG-1 had never even alluded to the strange connection that Jack and Sam shared, and now Daniel was talking about it like it was a commonplace thing. "I never..!"

"Yes, you did!"

"You mean that Zanex thing?" At Daniel's curt nod, Jack briefly wondered how his friend had found out about that particularly embarrassing moment in his illustrious Air Force career, but was too incensed to ask. "I was under Tok'ra duress!"

"I'm not talking about the Tok'ra!" Daniel argued, ignoring Jack's mangling of the test Anise had administered four years earlier.

Daniel's confession surprised Jack out of his anger. "You're not?"

"No!" Daniel did a complete circle in the cramped room, a move of frustration that he hadn't committed in years. Finally, he decided to just spell it out for Jack. "I'm talking about the way you joked with her all the time, and the way you threw her out of her lab at 2:00 in the morning in order to make sure she got some sleep. Or the way you constantly visited her, or made sure she had her share of the latest doohickeys that came through the Gate, or..."

Jack felt his anger rise the longer Daniel spoke. "Enough, Daniel! I get the point!"

Daniel stopped, and lowered his voice. "I'm saying that the whole base knew everything."

Jack really didn't want to hear _this_! "And no one did a damned thing?" A snort of disbelief exploded out of him. "Yeah, right, and I'm Santa Claus! Daniel, I know the military, and _nobody_ is..."

"Yeah, well, you may know the military, but maybe you don't know the SGC like you should."

Jack shook his head as if to get rid of something obnoxious. "Excuse me? Am I hearing this right? Look, Daniel, I'm a General, and as a General..."

"Get over the General thing, Jack. And you haven't scared me in... well, you never scared me."

Jack fell back against the wall beside the toilet in total defeat. "Crap. Don't I know it."

"Yeah, well, now is the time to just get on with it, not spend useless time getting mad at all of us for being stupid. You did it, not me - I just paid attention."

Jack thought about arguing some more, but then thought what would be the point in that? "So you're saying that about 100 people..."

"More than that, Jack," Daniel corrected. "We were on SG-1 together for a long time. It's more like 500."

Jack couldn't help but grunt an incredulous laugh when he heard that.

Which incensed Daniel anew. "You laugh if you want to. But it doesn't change the fact that you and she were like the poster couple for the whole duty thing. 'Do it till it hurts, and then do it some more' - that should be the motto of the SGC, all that 'military comes first' stuff." He glared at Jack. "Let me just say that no matter what you and Sam decide to do now, no one's going to stand in your way, or report you for breaking regs, or say that you're not doing your part. We all figure that both you and Sam have given more than your fair share to the SGC, and to this war, not to mention to the Air Force... and we're all sick of the 'do it right the first time!' mentality. If you've got a bug to scratch, then scratch it... but not on our time. We aren't playing that game anymore."

Jack was amazed. "I don't believe I'm hearing this!"

"You get her out of that place, Jack, and you can do whatever you want, even if you both still end up being in the military. If someone gets too big for his britches, Siler's said he'll just hit them with his wrench before sending them to the System Lords. There's nothing those people won't do for you. And for Sam. They're letting her think you're dead for now, but I don't know how much longer I can keep that going. Especially not since you've come back. You are back, aren't you?"

Jack pensively stared at Daniel. "I'm not sure," he said in a vague voice. "I know that I have no desire to return to commanding the SGC."

"What?" Daniel barked in surprise. "But you were so good at it!"

That comment made Jack give a little shake of amusement. "That's nice to hear, Daniel. But it's too much like being good at sending people to their deaths for me to want to go back."

Daniel looked crestfallen. "Oh. I was sort of hoping that you would save us from those idiots in Washington," he admitted. "But I guess that was too much to ask."

That piqued Jack's interest. "What idiots in Washington?"

But Daniel just sighed and acted as if this was the one thing too many to discuss. Ignoring Jack, he reached out to shut the fanlight off and opened the bathroom door.

Not to be deterred, Jack followed him as he wound his way to his kitchen to begin making the coffee for the day. "What idiots?"

But Daniel wouldn't tell him, which in its own way made him out to be a far more devious guy than Jack had ever given him credit for. He'd said just enough to get Jack interested, but refused to say more. It was an excellent strategy to keep Jack's attention for some time to come.

How annoying!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jack saw Carter two more times that next week. He agreed to stay with Daniel after Daniel agreed to forgo mentioning to anyone at the SGC, past or present, that he'd seen Jack. Though he loudly claimed that Jack's new directive was going to kill him in steady increments, Daniel finally agreed that he wouldn't say anything. Sitting on the hottest information for an entire week without talking about it nearly did Daniel in.

But that wasn't Jack's problem. Whether he had expected it or not, liked it or not, was confused as hell about it or not, Doctor Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, retired, was now the focus of his attention. The more he stared at her, or just thought about her, the more puzzled he became.

Jack couldn't even tell Daniel if he was at a place in life where he was able to forgive and forget the transgressions that, to him, Samantha Carter had committed. The fact that she'd done her transgressing in public was, for him at least, mistake number one, bar none. He wasn't sure that, even considering what he'd said to Daniel about getting over that Gate Room scene, he would ever be able to separate in his mind the cloned Carter and what she had asked of him from the real Carter. He didn't want to blame the real Carter for what a copy of her had said to him, but it was hard, even on his best days.

Since he didn't know quite what to think, he decided that one or two visits to the nursing home to see Carter in her 'natural habitat' were in order. The reality of the situation then hit him like a sledgehammer.

The first day Jack dared to show himself, he only observed Carter rather than talked to her. Dressed in a cowboy hat that shaded his face, a button down shirt and sweatshirt, faded jeans, and tennis shoes, he figured that he was almost unrecognizable with the addition of dark sunglasses. He wasn't stopped as he pulled his car into the parking lot, nor was he accosted in any way when he sauntered into the Rest Well Nursing Home. He was busy musing over the horrible name of the place, deciding that it sounded more like a funeral parlor than a nursing home, when he immediately caught sight of her the minute he walked through the door.

She was sitting in her same wheelchair, parked at a table, assembling a puzzle in a large room just to one side of the door. She was alone, and he noticed that the other residents gave her a wide birth every time they neared her, as if experience had taught them that if they got too close to the young blond woman, it invited her wrath.

So they ignored her as much as they could. Jack took the time while she just sat and stared at the puzzle to look around the room. A large screen TV played a classic movie from an Old Movie Channel. Two more white-haired women sat together at another table, playing Scrabble. Two men sat on a worn couch near the TV debating the merits of which war had been more dangerous, the Korean War or the Vietnam War. Jack would have told them that the Cold War had been much more dangerous, as it had been political, and politics raised the danger level of a situation without even trying. Then there were two more women who were younger whom Jack figured were the therapists that he'd heard Sam mention. They were busy conducting some kind of craft project to a group of grinning senior citizens.

By far, Carter was the youngest resident in the room. The other residents besides Carter were easy to identify by the colorful shirts they were all wearing. Jack supposed that so much color was intended to be cheerful, but the effect of all the color was more overwhelming than cheerful. The fake cheerfulness was too loud, too insistent in its falseness. It reminded him of the System Lord Summit that Daniel had told him about attending. The entire place looked like it was full of Goa'uld, an effect that simply made Jack's skin crawl.

It did, however, give him a complete understanding of why Carter didn't much care for the place.

Surreptitiously, he watched her from his chair across the room. He figured that the fact that he wasn't talking to anybody would be less noticeable if he was sitting in a chair rather than on the other couch. He needn't have worried, though. No one paid him any attention, and he was amazed that the security of the place wasn't tighter than it was. Didn't these people know that they needed to keep constant vigilance, or some threat of galactic proportions would inevitably fall onto their heads?

Then Jack remembered that no, these people probably _didn't_ know about any galactic threats, have any worries other than what was on TV next, or who was going to do the craft project. There were no broken objects in the place for Carter to fix, no doodads for her to fuss with, nothing at all for her to do with that amazing brain of hers. Jack gave a grimace. _Geez, Carter must be bored to death._

As he watched her from behind the magazine on hunting that he had picked up, she sighed, listlessly picked up a puzzle piece, listlessly attempted to fit it in with the rest of the pieces, sighed again, dropped the puzzle piece, then ran a tired hand over her tired face. Frowning, she contemplated the puzzle as if it held the secrets of the universe, then slowly lowered her head on it, not in defeat, but in utter boredom. She didn't cry, didn't call attention to herself at all. It would have been easier to watch if she had dissolved into a bundle of tears. But she didn't, and that made the scene seem even more dismaying to Jack.

The entire scene tugged on Jack's heartstrings like nothing else had in the months since he'd left the SGC. The fact that Carter was being wasted here was evident to see. The fact that she was seriously depressed (or bored) about her situation was even easier to see. The fact that she had almost given in to her bored despair wasn't so obvious, unless her observer knew her well. Jack felt any residual anger that he was still holding against her melt away on the spot, just from looking at her. Even if he didn't want to feel such emotions, he could hardly help it while witnessing one of the most awful things he'd seen since watching Charlie die.

Jack was just on the verge of throwing caution to the wind and joining her when a group of soldiers walked in wearing BDUs, military caps, smiles, and teasing each other in a way that he instantly recognized. To his horror, he found himself watching the team members of SG-13 walk in good natured nonchalance over to where Carter was sitting and throw themselves into the chairs surrounding her table, leaving their leader, Colonel Dave Dixon, standing. He quickly hauled a chair from the neighboring table over to hers, then sat on it backwards. The energy the group automatically exuded was at odds with the steady calmness surrounding them.

"Colonel," Dave politely greeted Carter, as if he was making a special announcement. "What have you got for us today?"

Carter didn't miss a beat as she lifted her head, then casually replied, "Two scrabblers, Colonel, and I caught four of the healers doing a fake supply run when they were really trying to procure pizza for the inmates. Three more women have gone craft bonkers, one learned some form of weaving called 'knitting,' and those two over there?" She gestured with a nod of her head towards the two men arguing about wars. "They're clearly involved in some form of communication via the air waves that come through the picture doohickey on the stand. Or it could be mind control - I haven't determined that yet. But it's alien, without a doubt."

Dave grinned at what she said and teasingly accused, "Crazy as ever, I see."

Carter snorted. "Just doing my job, Colonel."

"When they gonna spring you from this joint?" The question came from that scientist guy the team had... Mr. Rock... something...

A third fella gave a playful slap to the second one's arm. "Balinsky, how many times she have ta tell ya?"

Then every one of them quoted a line that was obviously said a lot. "She's working on it!"

Balinsky-the-rock-man hung his head and tried to hide his contrite expression. "Okay, okay. Just hit me over the head with a rock, why don't ya?"

Dixon piped up, "We may try that someday."

Carter dragged their wandering attentions back to the subject at hand. "Anyway, that's all there is to report this week. I'll try again for a better outcome next week, though I don't expect to see much change."

Dixon gave a dramatic sigh, agreeing with her assessment of the situation. "But as I always say..."

Wells broke out of the role of subservient airman he was playing to say, "No, you don't! You got that saying from..."

"Did not!" Dixon insisted, protesting the other man, seemingly predicting what he had been going to say, a common trait among SG team members. "'For crying out loud' - I got _that_ one from him!"

Bosworth scrunched his forehead in thought. "You sure?"

"Yeah." Dixon gave a definitive head bob.

Wells still looked puzzled. "I could have sworn..."

His voice trailed off as Carter said, "I worked with the man for seven years, and not once did I hear him say 'Ya gotta be smarter than the rock!'"

There was a general burst of smothered laughter that wasn't very smothered, then Dixon looked around at them all and said, "So, same thing next time?"

Carter nodded her head. "Same time, same place." Then she heaved a huge sigh. "I'll be here."

Dixon nodded, and there was a scraping of chairs as the four men rose from the table and prepared to leave. Just as they were getting ready to go, Carter halted Dixon with a hand on his arm. "Can I borrow your rock? It might help if I hit him just so..." She pantomimed sideswiping someone. "Maybe I just need the right rock."

It belatedly occurred to Jack that she was talking about the cop. His discovery almost made him miss Dixon's next statement.

"We'll bring some back for you," Dixon promised. He turned to face Balinsky. "Hey, you like rocks - it's your job to find a really good one for the Colonel here."

Carter added, "One that says, 'You're a dork!' on one side, and 'Shanahan' on the other."

Jack had to bite his lip hard in order to suppress his laughter. The magazine on hunting was beginning to slip, showing his face, and Jack hastily righted it.

Dixon gave Carter the high five, slapping her hand. "Next week, then. Colonel."

"Colonel," she firmly replied.

The four men departed.

Jack was glad to see that Ba'al hadn't been able to torture all the humor out of her.

Jack stayed concealed in the bushes the next time he was at the nursing home, and unashamedly watched Carter from there. He happened to catch her during another visit from 'the dork.'

Carter was sitting outside, enjoying the fresh air while reading a book. Shanahan came through the door in a jovial move that was also clearly false. "Hey, Sam!" he said when he caught sight of her.

Carter didn't even lift her head to give him the benefit of meeting his gaze, but only bluntly stated, "I'm still crazy, I still can't stand the sight of you, and I still want a divorce. If you're not here to give me one, then go away - you're blocking my light."

And though the cop spent the next ten minutes trying to talk to her, she refused to answer. He might as well have been talking to a wall.

Jack decided he had seen enough. Carter was clearly channeling her fighting spirit into simply surviving the nursing home in the best way she knew how - by resisting with sarcasm and pointed barbs. She sounded like him. It warmed his heart to know that he'd had at least some influence on her.

But Jack knew it was time to talk to her, face to face. It was one of the scariest prospects he'd ever considered, but he was also determined not to let his fears rule his head. He needed to speak to her, and so he set up a meeting with her in attendance with Daniel. It couldn't be at the nursing home, where just any old person could interrupt them (Jack supposed he should be thinking about the other residents of the home when he had this thought, but he wasn't. He simply had no wish to run into Shanahan. Ever.) A neutral site was a better bet, one that was more controlled and regulated. Someplace where Daniel might lure Sam, on a pretext that made her feel safe.

The birthday party held at Colonel Reynolds' home was just the thing. A party would be loud, which would cover up any untoward exclamations Carter might make when first seeing him (at least, Jack assumed there would be some sort of exclamation. He _was_ coming back from the dead, after all. Making untoward exclamations was something he would do if the shoe were on the other foot). Plus, they could control the immediate surroundings. Daniel had a mission scheduled with SG-11 48 hours before, but was sure to be back in plenty of time to drive Carter to the meeting site. Jack would have preferred having this meeting off-world, where he could be certain that no one would bother them, but as he didn't carry a convenient Stargate around in his pocket, a back bedroom at the Reynolds household would have to do.

He and Daniel planned the entire thing very carefully. The hardest part fell on Daniel, who had to convince Carter that she wanted to attend a potentially large party where many of her former colleagues and their families would undoubtedly show up. She would probably be peppered with questions about her circumstances, and be constantly reminded by well-meaning individuals of what had happened to her. Heck, she'd be more the center of attention than even Colonel Reynolds at his own party! And she would have to do it all from the low position that a wheelchair provided. Persuading her that she wanted to invite this kind of a nightmare wouldn't be easy.

Daniel was all for telling her up-front that Jack was alive and wanting to see her, but Jack insisted that surprising her at the Reynolds party was the better course of action. She wouldn't have the chance to back out at the last moment, or flat out refuse to meet him if she didn't know he was going to be there. And truth to tell, Jack was terrified that she wouldn't want to see him after all this time, no matter what Daniel told him about how she'd asked for him the minute she'd come through the Gate. That was then, he argued. This was now. And now, he'd seen first hand how she wasn't afraid to fight it out. The direct approach, Jack assured, was definitely the way to go.

Jack snuck in and secreted himself in the back bedroom while the crowd was busy swarming Reynolds and wishing him a happy birthday. The back bedroom was still the guestroom that he remembered from previous parties that had been held at the Reynolds' house, and hiding himself in the space behind the door was as easy as eating pie in the Commissary. And now that Jack had thought about Commissary pie, he was busy conjuring several imaginary deserts, and almost missed the appearance of Carter with Daniel.

Jack heard Carter say, "In here, Daniel? What could possibly be in a bedroom that I have to see?" But she'd obviously decided to humor Daniel, for the next thing Jack knew, the image of Commissary pie that filled his head faded and he was staring at the back of Carter's head, barely two feet away. Daniel's darker colored head followed her as he walked into the room, too, and she swiveled around on her one good foot to stare at Daniel. "Okay Daniel, I'm here - what's the big surprise?"

Jack pushed the door closed behind them now that both Daniel and Carter had cleared the opening, finding himself standing close to Carter for the first time in months. It annoyingly made his heart skip several beats. He'd say he was supposed to be over this kind of reaction to Carter, but he would have known he was lying if he said so. "Hey Carter. Whatchadoin?" he instead said with a wry grin on his face.

He didn't realize until that very moment that Carter wasn't in her wheelchair like he'd expected her to be, but was using a pair of forearm crutches in order to get around. The balance she needed to use crutches had to be prodigious, but he was perfectly aware of how good her sense of balance was, and should have predicted her use of crutches. But he hadn't.

Stunned at seeing him alive and well after months spent thinking he was dead, Carter could do nothing but gape right at him, her face showing positive astonishment. Then the next thing Jack knew, she shrieked, "Clone!" and sent a mighty _whack_ right at his head with her right crutch.

Jack managed to deflect part of the blow with his left arm, but felt the side of the crutch slide down his hair just as pain blossomed in waves through his skull. He sailed backwards and sideways, smashing into the wall behind him, then slid to the floor.

Jack fuzzily noted that Daniel and Carter were arguing about something, just like they always did, and something sticky was hindering the sight in his left eye, and his arm was pulsing with fire, and his head was pounding... Darkness beckoned at the edges of his vision. Yeah, falling unconscious right now sounded like a _fine_ thing to do.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jack woke slowly, the surrounding sounds gradually penetrating his fuzzy brain.

He could hear beeps coming from somewhere over his head. Well, that was a strange place for beeps to be located. Maybe Carter could tell him what was going on - she always knew everything, so it stood to reason that she would know this, too.

But that lump sitting beside his bed didn't look like Carter. In fact, it looked more like Daniel. But what was Daniel doing sitting beside his bed? Was he in some kind of hospital? Maybe it was one that only allowed males inside its doors.

But Jack didn't believe that the minute he had the thought. He'd never heard of such a hospital, anyway. If his head would only stop spinning long enough for him to get a fix on one subject, then he could reason out what had happened. Had he been on a mission that had gone wrong? Had he hit his head? He tried to move his left arm up to touch his head, but the cast covering his entire arm was heavy enough to stop him.

Why was his arm in a cast? He'd hurt his head, not his arm... hadn't he?

And where was Carter? She always sat with him in the Infirmary until he woke up.

Oh, that's where he was - the Infirmary. So... he was at the SGC. In the infirmary. Jack puzzled over why the fact that he was in the Infirmary did not bring him the feeling of relief and safety that he thought it should.

Carter would know. Carter knew everything.

But Carter wasn't here - Daniel was. And there was no Teal'c hovering near the foot of his bed. Where was Teal'c?

And just _where_ was Carter? She hadn't showed up yet, though Jack had been awake for several minutes. Was she alone on a mission? Was she captured? Was she hurt, also a resident of the Infirmary? Was that why he hadn't seen her yet?

What if she was lying unconscious somewhere, and woke with no one by her side? What if she'd been captured, and woke alone in a Goa'uld cell?

Panic seized Jack. Possibilities continued to burn through his brain, though perhaps 'burn' indicated too much action. The thoughts that seemed to race through Jack's mind were actually very sluggish, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. The one thing that spurred him to wakefulness was his need to find out that Carter was safe. If she wasn't by his side, then where was she?

Frustrated, Jack gathered as much energy together as he had at his disposal and asked, "Carter - where?" He was rather dismayed to find that all he could produce was a mousy sounding whisper.

Daniel looked up from the book he was intently reading. "Jack?"

But Jack wanted nothing to do with Daniel. "Carter," he insisted, and tried to turn his head the other way for a look around, hoping to spot her, but pain shot through his head. He had to stop before the world spun away from him. The nausea was making him want to heave as it was.

Daniel snapped the book shut and leaned in close to Jack. "No, I'm Daniel," he said, obviously mistaking what Jack had said as thinking that the man had called him by his team mate's name and not his own. "Sam wanted to come down here, but since she's not part of the Air Force anymore..."

What? Not part of the Air Force anymore? What was Daniel on to think something so insane as that?

"Carter," Jack more forcibly repeated, straining his bonds this time to see what he could still do. The fact that his bonds were nothing more than the bedsheets and blankets weighing him down slipped past him.

Daniel got his 'I'm gonna be patient now' look on his face and tried explaining, "No, Sam's the one who hit you. She thought you were a clone." Then Daniel let his head fall to the side as he considered. "Well, of course she thought that. To her, you're dead. You can't be you, so you must have been a clone, just like she was from before."

"Where is she?" Jack demanded, and struggled a little bit more against the weights on his body. Maybe this was some kind of weird gravity pushing against him? He'd come across that odd use of gravity during injury before. Thoughts of the time he'd spent as a prisoner of Ba'al flitted through his mind. There, gravity had definitely _not_ been his friend!

And that was when he recalled something linking Carter to Ba'al... Jack's panic mushroomed: Oh, God, Ba'al had her! He would kill her!

Jack thrashed even harder, terror giving him strength. Before he knew it, he had his 'bonds' loose on one side of this contraption he was being held in, and had slipped out. But the wires held by a needle in his wrist got all tangled up with monitor wires, and he would have fallen if Daniel hadn't caught him.

"Jack! What are you doing?" Daniel's stricken voice asked him.

"He's got her!" Jack yelled. "Gotta get her outta there!"

Daniel pulled Jack off balance and into his lap, where he fought against Jack's weak thrashing. "Gotta get who? Who's got her? Who is 'her?'

Why was Daniel being so slow in all this? "Ba'al! Got Carter!" Jack tried to explain. "Find her! Rescue..."

As quickly as he had woken to a panic strewn world, that world receded as the drugs that had been pumped into his veins through the IV in his arm took effect. Jack felt the inexorable tug of more sleep, and he fought it off long enough to get right into Daniel's face and say, "Get Carter."

Then he was gone. The idea of Carter hitting him and putting him in here - ludicrous. It was because of the clones. Clones... and Carter...

Thoughts swirled together in Jack's brain as darkness once more welcomed him into slumber.

When next he woke up, he was lying on his back on the bed again. Only this time, the pain in his head had been reduced to a dull ache rather than the thud of powerful wings beating against his skull. He again ascertained the beeps of a heart monitor singing just above his head. That made sense - that's where the heart monitors always were when he was in the Infirmary.

And yes, he was definitely an Infirmary guest. He would recognize that Infirmary smell in a heartbeat, a combination of dank underground mixed with antiseptic. It was a smell that Jack always associated with Doc Fraiser.

With a twisted ache in his heart, he then swiftly remembered the tiny female Napoleon's death. So it wasn't her who had given him his last bout of sedatives, like he'd thought at the time. A sideways glance told him that Daniel was still there. He suddenly had a brief flash of sitting on Daniel's lap.

But that didn't make sense, either. He and Daniel weren't in the type of a relationship where one of them sat in the other's lap. They never had been - he was sure of it.

Daniel was reading, his nose practically glued to the page of a thick book. His glasses constantly crept down his nose, and every few minutes he would push them back up again. Jack watched several of these maneuvers from the corners of his eyes, but didn't say anything to alert Daniel of his new wakeful status.

Daniel was familiar to him, but not recently familiar. He couldn't quite remember why, either, and it instantly pissed him off. But why was he pissed? He didn't quite understand things yet. He needed more intel.

So he glanced to the other side of his bed. Carter was sitting there, her head in her hands, so still that she wasn't even doing her thinking mode thing. Instead, she was doing nothing more than quietly contemplating the floor.

Which was just _wrong_. The Carter he knew was never completely quiet like this. She was always moving, thinking, fiddling, focusing. This lack of focus-driven Carter-action gave Jack the hebbie-jeebies.

And wierder yet, when she went to scratch her lower right leg, Jack could clearly see that she didn't have a left leg to match the right.

That's when it hit him, fast and swift, like a mental hammer blow to his aching brain.

Carter - clones - captured - Ba'al - Gate Room - discharge - sort of on the run - Daniel's messages - the shock of seeing Carter again - her 'marriage' to Shanahan - her discharge from the Air Force - him finding out that he hadn't been discharged like he thought - her hitting him on the head with her crutch...

_Wham!_ She might just as well as hit him again.

But then Jack mentally frowned - if Carter had been medically discharged from the Air Force, what was she doing sitting beside his Infirmary bed, just like always? It just didn't add up.

"Daniel? Carter?" he groaned in order to let them both know that he was once more awake.

She was looking right at him in a nonasecond. Her blue gaze sizzled his brown, tearing up as he watched with growing horror. "I'm so sorry for hitting you, Sir," she whispered in contrite sorrow. "I thought you were dead. Daniel said you were..."

"No Sam," Daniel piped up from the other side of the bed, and Jack turned his head to stare at Daniel. "_You_ said that." Then he reluctantly added, "I...um... just didn't correct you on it."

Jack turned back when Carter made a grunting noise that sounded like a snort of disbelief - her pensive attitude had turned murderous enough so that she could argue about something that had obviously been argued about many times already. Jack was suddenly very glad that he wasn't Daniel. "And all this time, you let me think..."

Daniel interrupted her, and again Jack turned to look at him. "It wasn't so much 'let you think' as 'didn't quite get around to explaining everything.'"

Sam struck out and hit the side of Jack's bed, a noise that caused Jack to again stare at her. The Carter he knew never gave into her emotions like this. But then, the Carter he knew was still a member of the Air Force. He didn't know much about this retired Carter, or what she would do. "That's semantics, Daniel, and you know it!"

Jack heard Daniel spurt an exasperated sigh, and he looked back to his archaeological friend, who was looking slightly fearful even as he defensively pointed out to Carter, "Look, I tell you again that I did what I thought was best at the time! The deal was that Jack was gone, and I didn't know where he was, didn't know where you were, had an inkling that you were someone you weren't, fought the entire SGC over the whole clone thing - for _months_ I might add... Just what would you have had me do in that scenario that would have been different?"

Jack could see the building anger in both his friends, and trying to deflect the wreck he saw looming in the very near future, said a short, "Uh, how 'bout we..?

Ignoring him, or not hearing him because his voice had been so quiet, Sam huffed an angry breath and stared in mounting fury at their friend. "You could have told me the _truth_, Daniel!"

Daniel was incensed as well, and completely missed Jack clearing his throat in order to call their attentions onto him. "Oh," Daniel said, heavily sarcastic as he faced Sam. "Like I was just going to saunter into your Infirmary room the minute you got back and say 'Your clone hurt Jack so bad that he actually left the SGC, and obviously doesn't want to see any of us ever again - and how are _you_ doing now that your leg has been cut off?" His sarcasm had very uncharacteristically turned biting. "And tell me, what would you have done if you had known?"

Sam glared daggers at him. "I would have found him, Daniel!" she exclaimed over Jack on his bed.

Daniel snorted. "Like it was so easy! I tried!" he reported in a voice like a whip. "Three times! It took a huge amount of trust for him to come back at all! The only thing I could do was tell him as much as I could about _you_! He didn't come back for me, Sam. He came back because of _you_!"

The shock of Daniel's statement made Jack give a jerk on his bed. Was that what had really happened? And was it so obvious? And why was Daniel using such a biting tone? It was almost like he felt left out.

Which was another revolutionary idea. For the first time, Jack considered how this entire mess must have affected Daniel. The guy had lost his friends - Teal'c was gone, Jack was gone, and Sam...

Sam was... what had he said that day in his bathroom? Sam was his responsibility. That was it. He'd felt responsible for her... for her state of mind... so he had let her believe that Ba'al had killed Jack... then that Jack had committed suicide... and why?

In a breath, Jack understood: so that she wouldn't worry, so she could concentrate on getting better, think about herself rather than him. Had she known the truth, Daniel knew how she would have been: consumed with the idea of finding him, even to the detriment of her own health. So he'd let her think...

But then, in order to do that, he would have had to pretend that Jack was dead. And Jack was, in some ways. He was certainly gone... and had left Daniel all alone to deal with all of this... all by himself.

Jack felt the first twinges of guilt crawl up his spine.

But what Daniel had just said made Sam give a jerk, too, and her abrupt movement cut Jack's guilt short. She finally sought out Jack with her gaze, and instead of backtracking, as Jack expected her to do, she uncharacteristically blurted, "You came back because of me?"

Jack gave another start. Where was her constant need to pretend that he didn't exist for her? Or rather, her feelings for him didn't exist. She had done nothing short of everything possible to convince him as well as the entire base that she was free of him. So what gives?

Jack could only stare, his voice frozen in his throat, terrified by this new Carter and her unfettered questions.

It was an instinctual defense mechanism for Jack to either make a wise crack, or to ignore what she'd said altogether. But another blink later, he recalled what Daniel had said to him about him being able to do whatever he wanted concerning Carter and no one would stop him, or call him on behavior unbecoming an officer, or turn him in, or do anything to either of them. With all that flashing through his mind, he decided to take a chance and be honest for a change. It was a weird moment.

Jack opened his mouth to answer Sam's question as honestly as he could, given that he was in a public Infirmary, but the sudden appearance of a female doctor whom he didn't know cut him off. "Excuse me," she said, bristling with crisp authority. "But this is my Infirmary, not the General's office, and not a place for such a _loud_ discussion. You're bothering my other patients. Either you keep it down, or I kick you out. The end. Are we clear?" She eyed her patient and his visitors with an unforgiving death glare. There was no mistaking that she was serious.

Contrite, the three nodded as one. Her face softened minutely as she glanced at Jack's monitors. "General, how's the head?"

It took him a second to remember that he hadn't been discharged like he'd thought he had been, and she was talking to him. "Uh... better," he told her. "Instead of a big roar, there's only a dull roar now."

"Good," she commented. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Jack could barely keep himself from glancing towards Carter when the doctor asked that question, but he managed to keep his voice modulated to a mild tone and reported, "I don't remember anything specific - there were a lot of people there." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Did I hit something?" he asked hesitantly. "After someone pushed me? Or fell into me?" He ruefully looked at his arm in its cast. "I tried to catch myself with my hand - _that_ much I remember!"

"Hmmm," the doctor hummed. "Well, your arm is broken, not dislocated, almost like you tried to block a blow with it, not used it to stop your downward momentum." She looked pointedly at Jack now. "You're sure you remember catching yourself with your hand?"

Jack let doubt cloud his face. "Maybe I don't remember that either," he said in a tentative voice.

"Well..." The doctor took one more glance at the monitors, then looked at Jack. "Perhaps you'll remember more with time." Then she widened her attention to include Daniel and Sam. "And keep it down - all of you." With that, she was gone.

As she disappeared, Daniel and Sam both hissed a sigh of relief that washed over Jack. It was obvious that none of them wanted to heap assault charges on Sam, who had enough to deal with.

"Thank you, Sir!" Sam softly said.

There was that 'Sir' again, instantly annoying Jack. It brought with it too many memories of a past that he preferred to forget right now, most notably the fact that she had rarely allowed herself to call him anything but what military confines had dictated was acceptable. Jack was abruptly tired of military confines, discharged or not.

Jack's eyes narrowed again, this time in absolute disquiet. But he asked the safer question, "Either of you mind telling me who I just lied to?"

"Her name is Carolyn Lam, the new CMO," Daniel replied just as softly. "She's alright, but even more strict than Janet, and definitely more willing to carry through on her threats - and Janet was willing enough as it was!" Carter looked as intrigued about the new CMO as Jack did, so Daniel added, "She came just after Sam left the Infirmary last time."

Jack smirked. "So you're saying that we can argue as long as we do it in whispers?"

It was a statement which irritated Daniel, who didn't like to argue unless it was with Jack. "Jack!" the linguist instantly objected in a long-suffering voice that was loud enough to catch the attentions of those in the beds around them.

It also carried to the ears of Doctor Lam, who was there in a second. "Alright, you were warned - out," she perfunctorily ordered.

Jack wondered if that order included him, but he would have a hard time with disconnecting the IV...

Seeming to know that he wasn't quite thinking straight yet, Dr. Lam next said, "General, you need to get some more rest while you're alone. Do I need to help you along, or are you capable of being quiet on your own?" She gave the impression with her frosty words that she wasn't going to take any crap from him. Yet, she hadn't mentioned the court-martial that Jack felt sure was looming on his horizon, either, and that made her alright in his book.

"No, I'll be fine... right here," Jack said in a small voice, trying for once to be good without being asked first. He didn't think that he would be able to get much of anything passed this doctor, and he and she didn't have the relationship that he'd shared with Fraiser for him be able to count on her making things nice for him. God, he missed Fraiser! He was rarely so aware of the heartache that was her as when he was in the Infirmary. So naturally, he hated being in the Infirmary even if this new doctor was alright. If only his head would stop aching, he'd be in business!

Dr. Lam was now looking at him as if she could see through him, but didn't call him on his obvious falsehood. She only harumphed once, stayed around long enough to show Daniel and Carter to the door, then left Jack alone to go back to terrorizing her other patients.

Jack watched as Daniel waited for Carter to catch up to him at the door into the corridor before they walked off together, not talking, but not fighting, either. The atmosphere around them was tense, but he expected it to be after the things that Daniel had said. He supposed that Daniel would now have to take Carter back to the nursing home in Denver. She had a curfew there, he reminded himself, and wasn't as free to move around as he wished her to be.

If only his head would stop hurting!

If only, if only, if only!

That seemed to be the phrase of the century. If only Ba'al hadn't captured her the way he had. If only he hadn't cloned her to begin with, then none of this would have happened. If only had hadn't cut off her leg out of spite for his former prisoner, then Carter would have two working legs. She'd still be in the Air Force, _he'd_ still be in the... Jack blinked: oh, yeah, he was, thanks to Hammond.

How had Hammond worked that? And why wasn't he surrounded right now by SFs waiting to take him to his court-martial? Hadn't he been AWOL for months? If nothing else, he'd actually taken a shot at a superior officer. Jack really did recall that tidbit. Or at least, he thought he did. But since there were no SFs waiting to haul his sorry ass away for his treatment of a fellow officer, maybe he was making that part up, too.

Crap. Jack wasn't sure about anything anymore. The only thing he did know for certain was that there was more going on here than met the eye, and the only way he could find out any of it was to talk to Hammond. In order to do that, he had to first get released from the clutches of The Dragon Lady Doctor.

Jack smiled to himself at the nickname he had just given to Dr. Lam. It was as applicable as 'Napoleon' had been for Fraiser.

Thoughts of Lam mixing with memories of the Doc lulled Jack back to more healing sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Towards the end of the next day, The Dragon Lady Doctor finally released Jack from the Infirmary on the condition that he be extra careful of his arm for at least a week, and to take it easy for three. To back up her last point, she threatened that if she heard he was in any way taking chances or doing some of the risky things he was known for, she would immediately put him back in the Infirmary and tie him down until his arm properly healed. Jack promised to at least try to be good, for he had no doubt that she would carry through on her threat in a heartbeat. He'd already learned through his short stint in the Infirmary that his nickname for her was definitely an appropriate one - she outranked even a General in medical situations, and like Doc Fraiser had been, wasn't afraid to use her influence if she thought it was for the good of her patients. He had no wish to tangle with a dragon bearing an MD degree.

Jack reminded himself that he was supposed to be good over and over the next few weeks. Yet, he had so many questions about what had happened before Carter had sent him to the Infirmary, and what was going on now, that he fancied he was slowly driving himself insane. Again he reminded himself that he didn't wish to be literally tied down in the Infirmary for the five or so weeks before his cast came off. But then, he needed to talk to Hammond. The Homeworld Security General was logically the only person on the planet who had all the answers he sought.

So, in effect, Jack was caught between a rock and a hard place, as the saying went. To go to DC and see Hammond, or not? To try seeing how far he could get in ignoring The Dragon Lady Doctor's threats? She had threatened him with almost permanent exile to the Infirmary - at least, permanent to him. He doubted that taking off on the spur of the moment for DC fit her definition of 'taking it easy.'

Not to mention that if he did get exiled to the Infirmary, he wasn't likely to talk to Carter for weeks. The SGC was a place where Sam Carter was no longer allowed except with special permission. That thought alone was powerful enough to ensure his good behavior for several days at least.

Yet, the thought of talking to Hammond was just so damned intriguing.

Jack wavered between being the good officer and staying in Colorado... or hopping the first flight to DC. Good or not so good? Good, or have his questions answered? Of course, he would get his questions answered eventually, anyway, all he had to do was be patient. But Jack had never been very good at the waiting game. He was the most impatient man he knew. And that was saying something, as he knew Daniel.

But Daniel was strangely absent right now... he must have a new translation that had taken him by storm (it wouldn't have been the first time), and was currently absent.

Jack would have pondered that, but he was busy convincing himself to stay at home, watching TV and otherwise recovering in private. He somehow managed this for two whole weeks. In that time, he quickly grew so bored that he wondered if The Dragon Lady Doctor would be willing to accept his excuse that a trip to DC was necessary for the continuation of his fairly decent mental health, even if it proved to be dangerous for his recovering arm. Yet, even at his most desperate, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that she would buy such an excuse.

Only his daily phone calls with Carter gave him anything to look forward to. Phone calls were one of their only forms of communication now that he was grounded. Visiting her was out of the question, since driving while one arm was in a cast could hardly be considered non-dangerous; Daniel was too busy with his translation, or research, or whatever, so he wasn't available to drive him; and he doubted that giving the order for a car and driver from the motor pool to take him would get passed Dr. Lam's long reaching orders for him to 'take it easy.'

So he and Carter talked on the phone... or emailed... or texted... about everything under the sun, except what they really needed to talk about: what she... or her clone, rather... had said to him in the 'Gate Room that then caused his nine month Air Force hiatus, and her to think that he was dead. That topic of conversation was studiously ignored - by both of them.

They did, however, talk about many other things, sometimes even about suns themselves, specifically about blowing them up (in code, of course, as blowing up suns - as well as most any other work related topic they might discuss - was too classified for an insecure phone line, or email, or occasional text). It was, however, enough to keep him tied to Colorado Springs for weeks. He stayed until he simply couldn't stand it anymore. Then, somehow, without even thinking to mention it to Carter, he found himself jumping on a flight to DC.

And before he knew it, he was standing outside Hammond's DC home, the sunny afternoon giving him a false sense of security - he rationalized that nothing too untoward could happen to him in the middle of the day. He should have known better.

That untoward thing happened immediately. It was a Saturday at the end of summer, but it was still hot enough at midday to want to stay in air conditioning, and the jovial sounds coming from inside the house let him know that a party of some kind was in full swing when he got to Hammond's.

_Oh, goody - I've instantly turned into a party crasher._ This was not a particularly great beginning to his inquiries.

When he knocked on the door, it was to be greeted by a maid, of all things. Hammond didn't come across to him as a person who was maid-oriented, but then, he figured that a lot could have happened in the recent months to change even a man of Hammond's independent caliber.

He was just getting the runaround by the maid when he suddenly found himself staring into Hammond's smiling face.

"Jack! Good to see you! Come in - come in!" The older man pulled Jack through the door and into the living room.

The next instant, Jack found himself surrounded by a sea of Air Force dress uniforms. He had crashed a party for the high officials of Homeworld Security and the JCS. Ah... just who he most definitely didn't want to see, especially considering how well they had _not_ parted the last time they had come in contact with each other.

But now they looked... well, they looked absolutely astonished to see him. Not angry, but gapingly amazed. Which was weird. Hadn't they received notification that he'd been admitted to the SGC Infirmary? Didn't they know that he was back, either for awhile, or for good?

Confused, and not liking his confusion one bit, Jack looked around at the stunned faces. "Ah... a party. I don't want to crash it, Sir. Perhaps it would be better if I came back tomorrow." _Or next year._

But before Hammond even had time to respond, there were noisy cries of protest, followed by calls of 'Welcome back, General O'Neill!' and 'Good to see you again, General!' and 'How in heaven's name did you survive?'

Jack was overwhelmed. Survive? Survive what? "Uh..." Clearly there was something going on here that he wasn't privy to.

Then Hammond was standing between him and all the well-wishing party-goers, trying to politely usher Jack to a back room while still dealing with his party host responsibilities. "General, come right on in - go on to the back and I'll be with you in a moment."

"No, stay!" someone yelled, and another seconded.

"Yes, please, tell us all the details!" agreed one of the partyers whom Jack didn't even recognize. "Stay and tell us how you got away!"

Away? From what? This was getting more and more perplexing by the moment.

Hammond covered for Jack. "I forgot all about the appointment that I had made with General O'Neill for a second debrief - please, excuse us for a few moments. This won't take long." And then they were through a door and in the enveloping silence of a study.

Hammond closed the door behind him, leaning on it as he slowly let his breath hiss between his teeth. "That was a close one."

"What was a close one?" In his irritation, Jack forgot all about the fact that this man had recently had at least one heart attack that he knew of - he should first ask about the other man's health, then let him know how aggravated he was. But personal matters like fitness seemed too irrelevant compared to what Jack still didn't know.

Hammond held his hand up to indicate silence for a moment, and put his ear to the door. They could make out the faint sounds of continuing merriment coming from the living room, meaning that the party was still in full swing. Hammond's second sigh of relief was louder than the first. "They bought it - we're safe."

But by now, Jack had had enough. "What's going on?" he demanded. "How did I survive _what_? Safe from _what_?"

Hammond glanced at Jack, then led the way to two chairs set before a fireplace. He seated himself, and indicated for Jack to use the other chair. "Jack, I've been expecting to see you, just not this soon."

Jack glowered at him. "Okay - I just came from the Infirmary where I wasn't met by a squad of pissed off SFs. There was no court-martial review board lying in wait to hang me out to dry." His scowl deepened. "But I seem to remember threatening a certain high ranking officer prior to what I believed was a discharge, only now I find out that I never did get a discharge from the Air Force, and am actually still in the military." His scowl showed his intense displeasure at that continuing situation. "But if I'm still in the Air Force, where have I been these last months?" His tone was more biting than he meant it to be. He didn't have anything against Hammond - he highly respected him, in fact. He was just so tired of puzzling over this issue with little success at finding any answers that a harsh voice should almost be expected at this point.

"Patience, Jack," Hammond said, as if Jack wasn't glaring into his face from inches away, and took a steadying drink from the glass in his hand.

Jack sniffed at the contents in the glass, then grimaced in distaste. "Water? In the middle of a crisis-free day?" he next asked.

Hammond's grin was a bit weary. "It has nothing to do with the heart attack. It's so I won't drink anything stronger."

"Like alcohol?" Jack guessed, thinking of his own reactions over the years to politicians.

Hammond nodded, his rueful grin taking over. "I started drinking so much water when I began dealing with politicians on a daily basis - they can drive a person to drink faster than children can." His smile grew wry. "I could now ask 'What brings you to DC?' but I know."

That was a statement that raised the hair on the back of Jack's neck. "Oh?" he carefully asked. "And just why do you already know?"

Hammond's sigh spilled through the room. "I'll just cut to the chase. I reported that you were on a special, classified mission for me, that shooting at me was part of our plan to have you believed to be certifiably nuts, was discharged but wasn't, and that now you've been MIA for months."

Jack's brows rose is disbelief. "MIA?"

Hammond's dry laugh was out of place considering the serious topic at hand. "Being declared MIA was better than being court-martialed if you ever came back, don't you think, Jack?"

Jack didn't know how to respond to that, and stuttered his reply. "Uh... sure... but what... what was I MIA from?"

"Officially, that's classified," the General brusquely informed. "Unofficially..." Hammond again sighed. "I knew that you just needed some time to come to terms with..." 'With what Colonel Carter said to you in the Gate Room,' went unspoken, but was understood. Hammond seemed unsatisfied with his staring, and simply continued, "I just had to find a way to give that time to you."

Instead of showing his immense gratitude about not immediately being a subject of disciplinary action thanks to Hammond, Jack's scowl grew even more severe. "Just what was it that you expected me to do with that time?"

"I knew that you had to get away," came Hammond's instant reply, as if he'd fully explained everything.

But it truth, Hammond hadn't explained anything at all. Distrust was now part of Jack's scowl. "Again I ask, what did you think I should be doing about..?" He waved his hand in the air, saying with the silent, circular gesture what he still was having trouble saying with his mouth. "And what was I getting away from, if I may ask, since you seem to know a lot more about this than I do?"

Jack's sarcasm didn't dampen Hammond's reply. "You had to get away from yourself, Jack," he softly explained.

In Jack's experience, people rarely did something for anyone out of the goodness of their hearts. In response to what he perceived as the General giving in to his warm and fuzzy inclinations in the matter, his paranoia went into a frenzy. "Are we getting into the touchy-feely stuff now?"

Amused rather than cowed by Jack's obvious misgivings, Hammond smiled again. "Perhaps. This is a touchy-feely issue, don't you think?"

There was no way that he was going to answer that one. To finally give lip service to what had only been surmised so far was not solely up to him, and not something he wanted to take responsibility for. So Jack simply stared in stubborn silence, waiting for Hammond to continue.

He didn't have to wait long. "Jack - when I heard what Colonel Carter had asked of you in the Gate Room, and how you had responded, and that you then disappeared, I knew right away that you would want out of the Air Force, that this was that one thing that was the proverbial straw on the camel's back." Hammond slowly exhaled, hissing air. "I knew you weren't exactly happy in your job - no, don't deny it," he said, holding up his hand. "You were good at it, and I'm still convinced that I chose the right person for the job of leading the SGC... but even a blind Jaffa could see that you weren't happy, not with the job, or with the way things were turning out between you and Colonel Carter, or..."

Jack abruptly cut him off. "Sir, what I did was..."

"Human, Jack," Hammond finished for him. "You were being human. It was all any of us could ask from you under the circumstances."

After another protracted silence, Jack slowly prompted, "So..?"

Letting Jack's voice lead him on, Hammond continued, "I knew you would eventually come to DC, though I didn't expect to be shot at, I admit." He chuckled now. "That was a bit on the dramatic side, if you ask me."

Jack colored even if he didn't quite blush. "I had to be dramatic in order to get what I wanted," he insisted. "I'm sorry that you were the means in that drama, but I didn't know what else to do... except shoot the President, and I didn't think that would go over so well."

Hammond agreed, but then he also didn't agree at all. He used his tried and true method of skirting the immediate point of discussion in order to get back to the original topic. "Well, be that as it may, the Joint Chiefs wanted to hang you out to dry for that little stunt. I argued, they ignored me, I argued some more, they ignored me some more. They wanted to get rid of you, no doubt about it. And they tried. Perhaps you recall the sniper they sent after you - not that it did any good." He paused, pensive. "Then when it came time for your discharge, I took a page out of the O'Neill military playbook."

Which just confused Jack even more. "General?"

"I lied," Hammond bluntly replied, then cocked his head. "Maybe not lied, exactly... more like 'bent the truth.'" His smile widened. "Seems I remember a certain Colonel bending the truth in his Abydos mission report eight years ago." He chuckled as Jack really did blush this time. "I knew that, initially, you'd want to leave the Air Force, but I also knew that your reasoning was a bit suspect at the time." His voice had now become just slightly accusatory. "If you left at that time, it would be for the wrong reason."

He didn't elaborate, and finally Jack had to give him a little nudge. "And that wrong reasoning was..?"

Hammond sighed, as if weary from the way the world was resting on his shoulders. "You were simply running away."

Jack didn't deny what the man claimed, nor did he declare that he was right. He didn't say anything at all. It seemed silly to deny anything at this point, anyway. Obviously the General knew about all of it, and had known for quite some time. To give a denial right now would be, in effect, saying that Hammond was stupid. And Hammond was definitely _not_ stupid. The best policy in this case was to say nothing.

Hammond was going on anyway, not giving Jack much time to react. "So I did what I could to help you - I let you run, knowing that you would come back when you were ready."

Jack snorted. "Then you knew a whole hell of a lot more than I did, General."

Hammond laughed again. "I hope it can be said that if I can't learn a new trick or two, then it's time for me to get out while the getting's good."

Jack warily eyed him. "You sure you won't get in trouble for this yourself, Sir?"

Hammond shook his head. "I made this as official as I could, created a paper trail and everything."

"And you didn't sign my discharge form correctly." Jack's voice was accusatory this time.

Hammond's sudden grin lent a teasing quality to his tone. "I came up with a name that was pretty good, though, don't you think?"

Jack grimaced again. "I didn't even notice it until a few weeks ago."

"There, well, it worked." Hammond's grin turned sly. "It's not every day that I get to pull one over on Jack O'Neill."

Jack sighed, irked, but trying not to show his feelings to a superior officer. "That may be, General, but there's a problem with this scenario."

And that confused Hammond. "Oh?"

Jack shrugged. "I'm still in the Air Force."

Hammond clearly wanted to ask him how that was a problem, but instead looked as though he was busy thinking the situation completely through. At last he guessed, "And you don't want to be, do you?" Jack shook his head. "I see." Hammond placed his glass of water on a side table. "I hadn't anticipated that." He rubbed his face for a moment. "You're right - we have a problem now."

"If I may speak candidly, Sir?" Jack asked. Hammond gave a vague nod.

At that nod, Jack's heart began pounding, and his instincts started screaming at him to keep his mouth shut pertaining to the subject he now wished to discuss. But he realized that if he didn't show at least a little trust in this situation, then everything that Hammond had done for him would seem to mean little to him, and that was simply not the case. He had to be open now instead of the closed officer he was more used to being.

Jack swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat so he could talk. "That um... fake discharge of mine..." He had to swallow again lest he fall into a hacking fit. "It... um... put me and Carter on... the same level... for the first time ever." How he hated talking about something personal, especially personally concerning Carter. But she deserved that much from him, considering all that she had recently gone through for what was basically a revenge vendetta against him. "I..." He suddenly found the room's ceiling fascinating. "I... liked... that feeling," he further explained, sweating buckets now, and had to clear his throat of heavy bile so he could go on. "We were... are... equals." There, he'd said it, and the world hadn't crashed to a halt.

But he could see that Hammond's patience even for the emotionally challenged man that was Jack O'Neill had its limits, and he was reaching his, so Jack hurried on, knowing that if he didn't say this now, he never would. "I guess that I just didn't... know it," he blurted. "I thought I was going to hate her forever." He hadn't been so emotionally revealing in years. "Seeing her in that home... Well, it kind of put things... in perspective for me."

Hammond sounded part sad now, and part aggravated. "Yes, seeing someone in a situation like that does have the tendency to quickly sort out the bull."

"A bit," Jack added, but his emphasis suggested that he'd had no choice in the matter.

"So you've..?"

"Yes. I've seen her, spoken to her, got hit over the head by her." Jack gingerly touched the place where Sam's crutch had collided with his skull. "And now I'd like... to be on the same level... with her." He'd thought it would get easier to speak as he went on, but he wasn't sure that was what was happening. His throat seemed to be closing the more words he said, and he had to clear it again, as if he had a cold. "Even... even if nothing... ever changes between us... I want..." Jack's heart was now pounding so hard in his chest, he was worried that he would be the next one to have a heart attack. _Come on, O'Neill!_ _Just say it!_ "I want... to... give it... every opportunity... to work," he squeezed out, smiling ruefully, a gesture that was mostly aimed at himself and the way he was so often an emotional cripple, this being one of those instances. He knew that Carter deserved better, but didn't see how he could change, either. "I know how I'll end up acting - I won't make it easy for her."

"Or for you either, Jack," Hammond added, his fingers thoughtfully steepled.

Jack had experience with Hammond's hand position. It usually boded ill, particularly for him. "I figure I should... supply..." He sounded like he was planning some mission for the Free Jaffa. He stopped, then tried to think what to say instead. And then inspiration came to him, like a lightening bolt zipping into his head:

'Simple is the way to go when you're not sure what to say,' his dad had sagely told him many years ago - Jack figured that things hadn't changed _that_ much during his lifetime, so he felt secure enough to blurt to Hammond, "I really need to be discharged, Sir."

Hammond wrinkled his brow. "But how will that level things out between you and Colonel Carter, Jack? She's married to that detective now. He sent her to that home."

_Don't remind me._ "I know that, Sir," Jack said, groaning out his frustration at not being able to put his feelings into words. "I just... liked the way we were the same," he lamely said on one breath. "I can't explain it. I just..." He scrubbed at his hair with his right hand. At last he began to relax, and was much more capable of speech now... though saying he was 'much more capable of speech' wasn't saying much. "I just... can't go back to the SGC," he was able to get out. "I've been gone too long... and it's like sending good people out to get killed while I... I just sit back... in my cushy chair and do... nothing."

The silence that fell after such a personal disclosure was almost absolute. Hammond quietly told him, "Now you know how I felt, Jack."

Jack looked at him in amazement. He knew that he should have been stunned at what Hammond was telling him, at how he and the General had this in common, and the way he finally had the chance to unload on someone who had actually _been there,_ but instead callously blurted, "How did you do this for seven _years_?"

Hammond's chuckle was again at odds to the topic. "By taking things one day at a time."

Jack woefully admitted, "That plan doesn't seem to be working for me."

"That's too bad to hear, son," Hammond said, sounding disappointed.

Jack hated to hear that tone coming from Hammond - he had disappointed many people over the years, but Hammond was never one he'd wanted to feel that way. "I'm sorry to make things difficult..."

"It's not that," Hammond said, and at Jack's look of inquiry, went on, "It's just that I had hoped to put you back in charge of the SGC while the Defense Department stops scratching their collective behinds long enough for you to fix the mess the place has been in ever since you left."

There it was again - the idea that the SGC was a mess. "Uh... I didn't get the impression that it's a mess when I was in the Infirmary."

Grinning, Hammond explained, "That's because after General Charles visited you for the third time to see if you were awake yet so he could question you about..."

Jack asked who General Charles was by doing nothing more than puckering his forehead, but he and Hammond knew each other's gestures so well by now that all Hammond had to say by way of explanation was, "The new base commander," for Jack to fully comprehend the state of affairs at the SGC.

Hammond continued, "Dr. Lam said she'd poison the next person to bother you with anything of an official nature."

That lady doctor - the one who essentially had 'do the right thing or die' stamped on her forehead - had gone to bat for him? Jack was surprised that she cared enough to even take notice of who had been visiting him, let alone what they bothered him with. "The Dragon Lady Doctor is just full of surprises, isn't she?"

Hammond's brows rose at Jack's use of her new nickname, but didn't comment except to repeat, "Now you're telling me that you want out for good."

Jack nodded, saying, "I'd owe you one, Sir."

Hammond heaved a gust of air, as if the world's weight had just gotten heavier. "You already owe me one, Jack," he pleasantly corrected. "So let's make it an even two." He crossed to a file cabinet set under some windows in the corner, and pulled a form from their depths. "This is a discharge form. I want you to witness the fact that my signature is the correct one this time."

Hammond filled out the blanks stating 'personal reasons' for the matter of discharge, then signed it 'Lieutenant General George Hammond,' just like he said he would. "There." He sealed it in an envelope, and tossed it onto a stack that was labeled 'Office Supplies.' "I'll send that through the proper channels Monday at work."

Jack hardly dared believe what he was seeing. "So it's official this time?" he suspiciously asked. "No mis-signings, or anything to trip me up at the last minute?"

Hammond laughed, then politely suggested, "Get out of here, Jack, before I shoot you myself."

Jack wanted his discharge papers right that minute, just so that he would have proof, but was forced to be patient. "You're sure it'll be sent through the right places this time?"

Humoring him, Hammond simply nodded his head. "I'll see to it personally, Jack."

Jack hated being humored. But he was busy recalling the last time that Hammond had seen to anything personally. "I have your word?"

Hammond's humoring had morphed into a weary sort of resignation. "What's wrong, Jack - don't you trust me?"

Jack gave a grimace that said that he trusted Hammond - mostly. But that promise was the best he could get out of the older General. He rose and headed for the door, but paused when his hand wrapped around the knob in order to look back one more time. "Don't you want to hold the door for me?" he teasingly asked. "Give me a proper send off?"

Hammond shook his head. "No need. I programmed it to hit my biggest pain in the ass on it's way out."

Jack grinned. "Biggest pain in the ass... that'd be me."

"No, that'd be Apophis," Hammond glibly corrected. "But he's already dead, so you'll have to do."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The morning after Jack's flight home found him once again traveling to Denver to tell Sam about his meeting with Hammond, and the latest developments. He figured that creating a dangerous situation by driving himself to the nursing home was hardly important when compared to the news he now had to tell Carter. Once at the home (and musing anew over the awful name), he signed himself onto the guest register, then proceeded to... UGH!... the room assigned to Samantha Shanahan.

Jack knocked lightly on room number 24. _A room with good vibes,_ he was thinking. _24 is divisible by 12, and that's a good, even number._ He'd had the thought before it hit him that the fact that he even cared what number was even or odd, or divisible by what other number illustrated how much influence Samantha Carter already had over him. Amused, he was grinning when he heard Sam call, "Come in." His heart actually skipped a beat at just the sound of her voice.

As much as he would like to still think of her as a rodent beneath his boot that he would gladly squash, he knew that it was a hopeless endeavor. _She_ hadn't said that most hurtful thing to him in the Gate Room. It had been her own special version of mini-me. Thanks to Ba'al, that malevolent maniac, she had lost her leg, her job, and her career. He tried not to feel guilty about the part that he had played in her multiple losses, both real and imagined, but knew that if it hadn't been for his connection to her, she could very well still have everything fully intact. But even those thoughts didn't still the thudding of his heart at just the sound of her voice uttering the banal words 'Come in.'

He stepped into the room, his insides a mess of guilt at seeing her again, and contrarily at the feeling of blazing joy at seeing her again after so long; he literally couldn't help himself. His gaze instantly swept over the room filled with two twin beds, two sitting areas, two attempts at making an antiseptic room appear more welcoming to quickly zero in on Carter sitting in an easy chair placed under the window at the far end of the room. His gaze was drawn to her like a magnet. "Hey Carter. I've got news." And he sent her his characteristic smirk.

Relief immediately swept across her features the second her gaze settled on him, but was replaced so quickly by boiling anger that Jack fancied he was momentarily shoved off balance by the force of the emotion alone.

"You _idiot_!" she hissed at him as the door swung shut behind him.

"What?" Jack asked, thoroughly bemused at what he had apparently done this time.

But Carter couldn't speak; she was actually so mad that she was speechless. He'd seen her mad before, but never at him, and never this mad. As dumb as it sounded, she was trembling with fury, just like the books said, and utterly unable to speak.

Though that didn't stop her from trying. "I... You..." She took a breath, gathered her thoughts, then began again, managing this time to vocalize in complete sentences, though she spit her words at him, all the time keeping her voice modulated as low as she could and still be heard. "I called your cell - no answer. I called your house - no answer. Out of desperation, I called the _base_ - no one knew anything! Where you were, or where you'd gone!" She slammed down whatever she was holding in her hands onto the small lamp table at her side. "Did it ever occur to you that it might have looked like you'd disappeared again?" She glared daggers. "Or had done _worse_?" By 'worse,' she was obviously referring to her concern that he had once again blown his brains out. "I would have gone looking for you myself, but after visiting _you_ in the Infirmary without permission to be gone so long, I've been restricted to the grounds of the nursing home, and had to send Daniel over to your house to make sure nothing looked out of place, or that you weren't lying in your bathroom, _dead_!"

She glared her death glare again. "Do you know how humiliating that was? To have to _ask_ him to do something for me because I _couldn't_?" The sound of tears invaded her lowered voice, a sound that only made her angrier. "If this is all the consideration you're going to give to your friends, I'm not sure I want to be party to it, or to you! So just go away!"

Angered himself at what she was saying, and at the way an arrow of dread shot through him when she told him to go away, Jack tried to poke both his hands into his pockets so that he wouldn't be tempted to hit the wall with an angry fist, but remembered his injured arm at the last minute when the cast tugged at the sling he wore slung around his neck. So he compromised by putting his right hand in his pocket and balling his one fist. In the calmest voice he could produce at the moment, he told her, "There was no need to be concerned - I was with Hammond."

But his calmest tone wasn't calm enough. "Like I knew _that_!" she whisper yelled at him. "What do you think this is - 'Read Jack's Mind' day? You might have just mentioned what you were up to to somebody!"

Did she mean that she now expected him to tell her every time he had the urge to go somewhere, just to keep her informed? Samantha Carter didn't own him - no way was he going to become some kind of kept... With eyes narrowed to disbelieving slits, he let his own anger envelope him. "What's gotten into..?"

"Keep your voice down!" she ordered on another hiss. "They'll hear you!"

Jack's glare said that he didn't particularly care. "So! What's it to you?!"

Carter's glare turned hard as chipped ice. "They'll feel it's their 'duty' to throw you out for upsetting me, then I'll get the full sedation treatment, and so help me, Jack O'Neill, if I get the shot from Hell because of you and your stupid..!"

That cooled Jack's anger in an instant. "Wait a minute," he barked, forgetting her directive to keep his voice down. "They _what_?"

And right on cue, the door opened, admitting a beefy male nurse into the room. He looked like he'd be more at home as a bouncer for a bar than a nurse in a nursing home filled with old people. His watchful gaze swept over the room, noticing that Jack and Sam weren't as close together as to denote they'd become an obvious danger to the other, as he'd clearly anticipated them being. He almost looked disappointed that nothing untoward seemed to be going on in the room. His disappointment was followed by a look of frank disgust aimed at Jack. Sneering now instead of throwing his weight around, he spent a long time perusing Jack from head to toe.

It was only seconds of being the object of that scrutinizing stare before Jack felt completely dirty, like he'd done something truly reprehensible. When neither him nor Carter spoke another word, the nurse stared darkly at him, then turned his gaze to Carter. But finding nothing amiss, he simply sent her a disapproving stare, then departed, saying as he went, "I'll be right outside, Mrs. Shanahan, if you need something. Just yell." In other words, the room was being monitored, and if either Jack or Carter so much as sneezed, to say nothing of raising their voices, that male nurse would be in room 24 so fast that they would have to scrape the skid marks from his shoes off the floor.

Jack took the saying for what it really meant, and the minute the door swung shut behind him, turned back to Carter and lowered his voice accordingly before saying, "I ask again, they _what_?" He whispered the last word so that the emphasis he gave it wouldn't carry out to the hall and the heavyweight nurse who was surely listening.

Carter heaved a dispirited sigh, then rubbed at her forehead, as if she had a headache, or the very thought of this gave her a headache, or as if explaining this to _him_ threatened to give her the feared headache.

Whatever the case, he didn't back down. "Carter?"

She cracked, and quickly. "Alright!" she unhappily hissed. "They sedate patients who cause anything that looks like a dustup. That way, they have time while the patient appears to just be sleeping to get rid of the perpetrator. Daniel's already been banned twice for a week at a time, just because I was a tad... upset those days." She gazed at him meaningfully, and it wasn't a second before he understood that she had been upset both times because Daniel'd had to tell her something bad about _him_.

Jack blinked, surprised at what he was hearing. "But there have been times that even Doc Fraiser had to sedate patients in the Infirmary," he argued, ignoring what she wasn't saying in favor of focusing on what she was saying. "This has to be nothing more than..."

"Don't say it!" she hissed, angry again. "I was _never_ sedated in the Infirmary due to nightmares!"

Jack's brow lowered in confusion. "Nightmares? I thought we were talking about..."

Sam glared at him again. "I was talking about the two times that Daniel was banned, not how many times I've been sedated! I have nightmares - you know I do - Daniel knows I do - everyone on base knows I do! We all do! I can't help it if my recent visit to Ba'al brought me more than a permanently vanished leg!" She then collapsed into the back of her chair to stare moodily into the far corner of the room. "They say they do it so that I won't hurt myself thrashing around during my dreams, but it's really so they don't have to listen to me yelling. I know. They give me an extra strong dose, so that I'll sleep most of the next day. I keep missing meals, and they won't let patients keep food in their rooms, not even bags of chips. They say it's to avoid rodent problems." Her lips curled into a partial sneer aimed at herself. "I think I've lost ten pounds already."

So that was the reason why she looked thinner. Jack assumed that she hadn't exactly been fed well while she'd been Ba'al's prisoner, either, so she'd gone from Ba'al's non-food to the Infirmary's chicken food, to the home. "I bet they don't serve blue Jell-O here, either."

Carter snorted. "I haven't had blue Jell-O for almost a year. I'm not even sure I would recognize it anymore." Her sad gaze flipped to the corner near her roommate's bed. "What I wouldn't do for a hamburger."

This he could take care of. "One order of a Big Mac, coming up." Jack turned to leave, but Carter's second sardonic snort stopped him.

"They'll never let McDonald's in here - remember the rodents? And I can't go there - I've been restricted to the grounds."

Jack thought for a moment. "What about that gazebo I saw out front? That's on the grounds. What if I met you out there in - say - twenty, thirty minutes? Would that be okay?"

Carter hesitated. Her gaze had flipped again to land on him. There was an obvious look of longing for food in her eyes, as well as something else. "Um..." She hesitated once more, but then timidly agreed. "Alright."

Jack didn't waste time - the quicker he got her food, the quicker he'd get back to meet her, the quicker he could find out more hidden secrets to this nursing funeral parlor home. "Be back in a few."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews you've left. Your kind words and support mean more than words can say.

Chapter 9

He really did head out of her room aiming for his car in the parking lot. His mind reeled as he walked, and he barely had the wherewithal to avoid the many residents sitting in the hallway outside Sam's room. Anger at what she had claimed the nursing staff routinely did to her made his blood boil to life again. He began walking in jerky movements to his car in the parking lot while he yanked his cell phone from his right pocket and hastily instructed it to dial Daniel's number.

The answering voice was too benign after the emotional roller coaster of a scene he'd just come from. "Daniel Jack..."

"Daniel, it's me."

What sounded like an audible gulp carried over the line, but Daniel sounded normal enough when he said, "Jack! You're back! You know, Sam's getting pretty frantic by..."

"I'm already at the nursing home!" Jack growled. "Or I'm on my way _out_ of the nursing home after they obviously wanted to kick me out!"

"Oh." Daniel's voice held a note of familiarity. "She got mad again, didn't she?"

"What do you mean 'again?'" Jack momentarily lost his connection to Daniel as he pushed open the front door with his good right arm and plowed through it, unmindful of the group trying to enter. Once through, he replaced the phone to his ear. "How many times has this sedation thing happened before now?"

A sigh of resignation filled with patience met Jack's ear, and instead of answering Jack's question, Daniel inquired, "Did they do the 'Calm down - it's for your own good' spiel again? Or was it the 'we're just in the hall - yell if you need anything' spiel?"

"The second," Jack growled, as if expecting Daniel to reassure him that this choice wasn't as bad as the first one.

Daniel didn't disappoint. "Well, that's the better of the two."

"Better?" Jack snapped. "How is it better to know that they're listening to everything that goes on in that room, just waiting for a toe to be put out of place before they pounce?"

Daniel's second sigh washed over the line. "At least she wasn't sedated this time."

Jack snorted. "You make this sound like it's a good thing." When Daniel didn't respond, he added, "What I don't get is if this sedation thing has happened to her before, what the hell is she still doing in this place? Why hasn't she been moved to Assisted Living or somewhere?"

Daniel sighed his resignation again. "Jack, I know this is hard to understand, but we don't have any control over anything about Sam right now. Pete does. And since he's never seen anything like this type of sedation thing, only heard her talking about it, he thinks she's making it up."

Jack's voice was incredulous. "And he's never thought to check with the other residents to see if they say the same thing?"

"Jack." Daniel's warning was dry. "Of course he did. But they all just agreed with him that Sam must be making this up, since nothing like that has ever happened to them. Either they're lying, she is, or he is when he says that he had nothing to do with this sedation treatment thing of hers. And it only happens when she gets upset about something. Which, thankfully, isn't very often." Jack stood beside his car as Daniel kept talking. "As it is, Pete has no proof that she's right except what she says, and what we at the base say about how trustworthy Sam is. So he just thinks that she's got PTSD or something from when she was captured. That doctor person listens more to him than to her, even though _she's_ his patient, so he basically concurs with Pete: PTSD is certainly a real enough thing for her to have, especially now."

Jack protested, "Of course Carter doesn't have PTSD! She never has before, and..."

Daniel reminded, "But they don't know her as well as we do. For a regular person, a diagnosis of PTSD right now would make perfect sense. It's just us who knows that Sam can take a whole lot more than a regular person can take, and act like it's nothing." He didn't actually put a name to the legacy that Jolinar had left behind for Sam, but 'it's because of Jolinar' was inherent in his voice.

Instead of saying anything aloud about these suppositions, Jack asked, "So what you're saying is that there's nothing we can do?"

Daniel sighed once more. "Give it until tomorrow."

"I'm going to get her some lunch right now, so I can't wait until when it's a more convenient time for these yahoos, Daniel."

The mention of food seemed to perk Daniel up. "Oh, good, you're getting some food for her - that means she's willing to eat this time."

"This time?" Jack darkly repeated.

Daniel's sense of frustration carried over the line. "If they sedated her to help her calm down..."

"They didn't, but she was worried that they would."

"I bet she was worried!" Daniel said, as if this very thing had happened so often in the past that Sam had good cause to be concerned.

That instantly raised the hairs on the back of Jack's neck. He wanted to repeat his original question about the number of times she'd been sedated before the present, but swallowed his query. He didn't have to ask, anyway - Daniel's resigned tone said it all.

But he didn't rush back into the nursing home to get Carter out of there, either, like he wanted to. Dragging Carter out of there wouldn't help her in the long run - she was Pete's responsibility now, and would be the one who would ultimately pay the price if she suddenly disappeared.

"Give it some time, Jack," Daniel suggested again.

"I'm meeting her with lunch in a few minutes..." Jack trailed off as he spoke.

"Well," Daniel said, "Let her enjoy this little lunch thing then. Just being there for her is about all we can do at this point."

"Daniel, you sound like you don't care," Jack accused.

Daniel was immediately incensed. "Of course I care! There's just nothing we can do about it - believe me, I've tried! But Shanahan has power of attorney over Sam. The best thing you can do for her is leave for awhile... I mean, leave the nursing home building itself for awhile - or get her out of sight of those... uh... nurses."

"Are you talking about those bouncers who masquerade as nurses?" Jack sardonically inquired.

"Just get some lunch or something," Daniel said with a roll of his eyes that traversed the phone connection.

"Yeah, about that," Jack hesitantly said. "Daniel, it's only 1030 hours. What time does McDonald's start selling hamburgers?"

"I think they start right about - now. Eat a cheeseburger for me. Gotta go, Jack." And he abruptly hung up without giving an explanation for his behavior.

Which pissed Jack off. "Of all the..." he muttered. But he only glared at his cell phone, then flipped it shut and climbed into the car he'd recently bought.

Still thinking about being sedated just because you had nightmares, he couldn't help but think, _This is getting to be a very bad day_ as he drove away.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Twenty-five minutes later, Jack joined Carter in the gazebo, a McDonald's carry-out bag in his good hand. The Colorado weather was warm enough without being too hot or too cold to be uncomfortable, and cumulus clouds chased their way across blue skies as Jack approached Carter. "I got two double cheeseburger meals, with fries, apple pies, drinks... you name it, I got it."

Carter immediately rifled through the bag, pulling out a hamburger and French fries. She didn't even bother to set the fries on the table before shoving three into her mouth. After practically swallowing without chewing, she commented, "Too bad Jonas isn't here anymore. He loved fries."

Jack was momentarily surprised by her willingness to talk about such classified subjects, but didn't have the heart to call her on it. "Yeah, that man was a coronary waiting to happen."

Carter giggled. "One thing he liked about this place was the food."

Jack enthusiastically added, "And he _really_ liked the food!"

Carter laughed again.

Jack couldn't stop himself from saying, "It's good to hear you laugh. I thought you'd forgotten how to do it."

Surprisingly, Carter scowled. "You're one to talk, Mr. grumpy General."

Jack wondered, _That's what they called me?_ Aloud, he said, "I'm retired, Carter, remember? I'm hardly a General anymore, grumpy or not."

Carter's head shot up when she was still in mid bite. "You retired?" she yelped.

"Oh," Jack said, finally fully remembering everything about that scene in her room. "Yeah, I didn't have the chance to tell you - if I recall, you were too busy yelling at me."

Instead of growing immediately defensive, as Jack predicted she would, Carter just shrugged her shoulders. "Can you blame me for not wanting to get the sedation treatment again?"

Her rhetorical question prompted a second inquiry from Jack. "What else about this place are you avoiding?"

Sam sat in her wheelchair, unmoving, not even eating, but thinking. "I'll tell you, but it'll take awhile. How long do we have?"

It was a question that made Jack laugh this time. He reached for one of her fries, but she gave his hand a playful slap, saying, "You've got your own - these are mine."

Jack quickly withdrew his hand, but was secretly thrilled to see Carter eating with such gusto. Of course, that gusto was a message informing him how hungry she really was. "Wow - I don't think even Jonas was this excited about food."

Carter just gave a sardonic snort. "We didn't starve him 'for his own good,' either."

Jack's forehead wrinkled. "They're starving you?" he asked incredulously.

Sam had to concede, "Well, not _starving_ me... at least, not on purpose... I don't think." She sighed, unhappy again. "I could really do with some plain old fruit, though, something that isn't from the local McDonald's."

Jack balked. "Fruit? You?!"

The astonished expression on his face made Sam grin once more. "Yeah, hard to believe this is the same Carter, isn't it?" She sat back in her chair, toying with her hamburger. "Remember how I always got so caught up in whatever I was doing in my lab that I forgot to eat?"

Jack gave a nostalgic grin as well. "I was always worried that you would waste away someday, and disappear. The doc would've had a hard time granting an invisible person leave to go on a mission."

Carter snorted again, but it was a happier sound. "_I_ wasn't the invisible one - that was you." Her brow puckered in thought. "Didn't Teal'c tell me something about you drinking all the coffee in the Commissary that time you were invisible just to piss Daniel off?"

Jack hesitated. "Could be," he evasively replied, not wanting to be thought to have a coffee addiction that equaled Daniel's - he was sure he wouldn't be able to stand the resulting teasing.

She was the one to smile a nostalgic smile this time. "I sure miss Teal'c."

"Daniel told me that he's out recruiting for the Free..." His voice trailed off.

"I'll just say it so you don't have to," she suggested. "The Free Jaffa." She quickly glanced over her shoulder, then looked almost disappointed that no one was close by. "Crap - there's nobody around to hear me." She turned back to him and grinned. "If by some chance we ever are overheard, I can just say that I'm babbling my crazy talk again."

Jack sighed, aggravated. "Carter, you're not crazy."

Her laugh was dry. "Tell that to the goons in here."

Jack plunked his hamburger down in defeat. "How the hell did you end up in a place like this?"

Carter's second laugh was even dryer yet, mixed with biting sarcasm. "The Dork would know all about that."

She was referring to Pete, of course. Jack's eyes narrowed. "The Dork - you called him that the time a few weeks ago that SG-13 was here, visiting."

Carter's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "When were you here with SG-13?"

Jack squirmed, uncomfortable under her suddenly piercing gaze. "Thaaaaaat's a long story." He took another bite of his burger so that he wouldn't have to tell her anything more.

"Jack O'Neill!" Carter quickly expostulated, slapping her hamburger down in disgust. "If you think that keeping things from me will..!"

"Quick to get mad, aren't you?" Jack teased.

As a way of reply, Carter huffily released the brakes on her wheelchair. "Thanks for the food. Goodbye."

He hadn't meant to tease her to the point that she would leave him! Jack's heart was in his throat as his right hand shot out to stop her. "Sam, Sam, wait." He was so flabbergasted that he hadn't even noticed that he'd called her 'Sam.' Why had she flown off the handle that way so easily? The Carter he knew was never this touchy!

When she halted long enough to hear him out, he said,"Eat." His order was only marginally more steady than his earlier speech. "I don't think I can handle the added guilt of you wasting away from lack of food to the guilt I already have about you being in here, so... your burger's getting cold."

As reasons to keep her in the gazebo, 'your burger's getting cold' was as lame as lame could get. But that wasn't what was causing the pucker of confusion to mar her forehead. "You feel guilty?" she asked in blatant disbelief. "About me? _Why?_"

God... Why had he mentioned that guilt thing? It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Actually, he'd just said what he thought would keep her there - it wasn't like he had planned on revealing anything of a personal nature.

Jack stared at the puzzlement etching her face, and sighed his defeat. He'd always been such a sucker for that particular expression of hers. It was so cute to see a bamboozled Samantha Carter.

But remaining silent was obviously not doing her any good, either. For one of the few times in his life, Jack did his best to purposely open up. "I've been thinking... about that Ba'al thing of yours... and the clone."

But this did nothing to enlighten her. "What about the clone?"

Jack tried to buy himself some time by hesitating, but his hesitancy did more to make him look stupid. "Ba'al must have..." He started again. "The way she..." His voice trailed off, prompting Carter to give him a nudge. "Ba'al used some kind of memory recall thing on you, didn't he?" he half asked, half accused. "And then he 'gave' your memories to the clone."

"Um... yeah... sort of." She looked surprised that he unquestioningly bought her clone story, as well as was able to predict that use of a memory recall device on her. She clearly wasn't used to being so quickly believed.

"It doesn't matter what he used," Jack gruffly decreed after another pensive moment. "I kind of thought that... when I thought about it... I mean, she... the clone..." This wasn't going so well. Jack decided he would just have to bite the bullet and tell her exactly what he thought about the scene he had spent months trying to erase from his memory. "She was just so _empty_ when we were at the bottom of the ramp." His gaze met hers for a knowing look that said everything that wasn't being spoken aloud. "Later I realized that her emptiness - it just... isn't like you."

He paused in his stumbling vocalization to grunt a few breaths of air. Carter was listening with a rapt look on her face, as if she didn't want to miss a single word now that he'd decided to speak.

"You... think... you know me... that well?" she inquired at last, as if astonished that anyone would even contemplate the ins and outs of Samantha Carter, let alone actually doing it.

Jack thoughtfully said, "It was like..." His voice trailed off as his fear suddenly grew in leaps and bounds. Telling her about such an emotional thing as he was thinking of voicing would undoubtedly go a long way in promoting his cause with her. But such intensity as hers was unnerving. Jack didn't want to disappoint her by not disclosing the 'correct' thing... not realizing that he would have said the correct thing anyway if he would just let himself relax and do it. But then, he couldn't relax, because he also felt like the pressure to be open and honest had just doubled.

He ended up just repeating what he'd already said. "It was like..."

Jack again found himself struggling to choose how to put words to what was a very emotional event for him. But he absolutely _could not_ back out now. He owed her. "Um..." He looked down, as if the words he was looking for had been inscribed on the sidewalk. Carter was patiently waiting for him to go on, but like Hammond, even her prodigious amount of patience had its limits. It would have to be now or never. "She seemed like... what we had... that thing..." He waved his good hand in the air between them to indicate the connection he had shared with her without actually voicing anything specific. "It was like..." How had it seemed then? "She wasn't even hiding something..."

Jack heaved a sigh at the same time Carter did. He felt her irritation with him for not being able to deal with his emotions grow in leaps and bounds. Spurred on, he honestly blurted, "It was like it didn't even exist." He glanced at her, and when she winced, as if she had decided that she didn't blame him for thinking that it had disappeared by that point in time, clarified himself. "Like it had _never_ existed."

Her guilty expression spurred him to go on, no matter how jittery the thought of continuing made him feel. "I'd always... gotten the impression... that..." Jack winced. "It was buried... but not gone... at least, not for me," he hurried to correct. He wasn't going to comment on the feelings for her that lay at the back of all these proceedings, and certainly hoped that she wasn't going to say anything about it, either. He didn't know how he would answer such a confession if she said anything after all this time. It would just be better if she didn't say anything at all.

So that she wouldn't have a chance to comment, he simply rushed on. "It was almost as if she... it... didn't know..." He sighed a big gulp of air. "As if Ba'al had been picky... giving her the memories that would be sure to..."

Sam interrupted him at last in a dead voice that finished his comment, "He chose the memories that would be sure to hurt you the most." She had said something specific, but hadn't said anything specific at all. It was Jack's favorite kind of answer - the non-answer.

Sam simply continued eating her cold hamburger in a defeated silence. At last, between bites of burger and fries, she whispered, "And you're right about the memory device thing."

Jack carefully replied, "I thought so."

She went on now that she had gotten started. "You're also right about him handpicking the memories he included, though he saw everything." A deep grimace etched itself onto her face. "I tried to stop those thoughts..." Her face now twisted up even more to indicate the futility of hiding the unpleasantness of that particular memory. "But it didn't work. It wasn't long before he knew everything." Again she was alluding to the issues between them without actually saying anything about them. At least she understood where he was coming from in not wanting to vocalize things. But again, he didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

Carter broke into Jack's pondering. "And when he programmed the clone, he made sure that I watched everything he did. So I would know... what..." She couldn't go on, and lapsed into silence, not staring at him, not eating, just sitting with her eyes closed, as if she wished she could shut out her memories just as easily.

But Jack had enough personal experience with trying to ignore unpleasant memories to know that any further attempts on her part were sure to lead only to complete agony. Jack went back to his burger in order to distract her, but just as he was about to take a bite, muttered, "Sadistic son of a..."

Carter interrupted his mumbling to confess something more. "That's not all. I'm pretty sure..." She once more trailed off, and gazed unseeingly at the fries in her hand. She remained silent as if knowing that putting words to what had happened to her would somehow make it more real.

What she blurted still came as a total surprise to him. "I should have said something to you before the mission... something about breaking up with Pete right before we left."

Jack's forehead wrinkled. "Said something? What do you mean?" He shrugged his right shoulder. "There was nothing you could have..."

"If only I hadn't kept everything so quiet," she insisted once more, and contemptuously tossed her fries back into their box. "At least you would have known that she was an 'it,' and not felt like you had to..." She ground her teeth, the sound echoing around the gazebo. "I could have saved so much heartache."

But Jack was not as quick as she was to condemn her decisions. "I still say there wasn't anything you could have..."

"I'm always so damned sure not to say anything." Her anger was evident in the sparkle in her eyes. "All I would have had to do was mention one tiny thing to you before we left." Her self-loathing had almost consumed her by now. "In the end, I brought you more..."

Jack didn't let her go on. "You did what you felt that you had to do, Carter," he harshly reminded her, already realizing that she was referring to the hurt he'd always tried to hide, surprised that she'd even been aware of him at all during and after her engagement, but not wanting to hear about it. Hearing it made it as real as her leg, and as harmful. "Neither of us talk much about what's going on in our personal lives," he at last conceded, fascinated by his burger. "You can't expect me to hold you accountable for something that I would have done too if I'd been in the same position."

Now Carter did meet his gaze, her own piercing through him like bullets. "That doesn't mean that what I did was right."

Jack pointed out, "What I did wasn't necessarily right, either." He uncomfortably squirmed in his chair, uneasy about admitting any of this. Emotions tended to scramble his brains - he always came out of conversations about emotions feeling like an idiot.

Still, he owed her... a lot. More than he could ever repay, really. So he tried to subvert his natural instincts to shut up and run like hell. "Hammond told me that I was running away, and he was right."

Carter paused, somehow knowing that his whisper indicated how hard this was for him to admit to, but couldn't stop herself from arguing, "You were acting out of self-preservation. I don't see how you could have done anything else any more than I could."

Jack heaved a self-flagellating sigh and ran his fingers down his face. "No, he was right. I should have stayed no matter how upset I was. I could tell that something wasn't right. A good commander..."

"You weren't being a commander then, Jack," Carter reminded in a harsh voice. "You were being human... I made sure of that."

But Jack disagreed. "No, 'it' made sure of that. 'It' said what it said. 'It' made a total hash out of both our lives. 'It' was old Ba'al at his best." Like she had earlier, he ground his teeth in frustration. "What I wouldn't do to take his damned clones and shove them down his..!" But his anger was with that hated System Lord, not Carter. He made sure that she knew that by looking her in the eye.

"Have you seen Daniel?" she asked next.

Jack was confused at the sudden change of topic. "Huh?"

"Daniel," she patiently repeated. "Have you seen him lately?"

What did Daniel have to do with Ba'al or his clones? "Um..." Jack tried to figure out where she was going with this, but had to admit defeat. "I just spoke to him on the..."

Carter was adamant. "But did you _see_ him?"

"Uh... no." Jack quizzically stared at her. "Isn't he just on another one of his translation kicks?"

Carter didn't immediately respond. She looked lost herself as she at last mumbled, "That's the way it looks." She didn't elaborate, and again Jack's forehead swooped into a frown.

"What are you getting at, Carter?" he eventually asked when she said no more. "That _Daniel's_ a clone this time?" His snort told her what he thought of that possibility.

Her blue eyes unflinchingly met his brown. "Why not?" she challenged.

This was ridiculous. First she was going on about how she should have said something to him about breaking up with Shanahan, now she was on about Daniel being a clone. For the first time, Jack wondered if maybe the doctor in this zoo of a nursing home wasn't more right about her diagnosis than he'd thought.

Jack could tell that Carter recognized what he was thinking the second he thought it. "Easy to think that I'm nuts, isn't it?" she wryly pointed out.

Jack was amazed that she had so quickly guessed his innermost ramblings, though he shouldn't have been. "You have to admit that PTSD..."

Carter would have instantly vaulted to her feet if she had been able to. As it was, her eyes spit fire. "I do not have PTSD, Jack, and you know it!" She glared at him. "I would think that you of all people would..!"

"Then prove it," Jack announced in no-nonsense terms. "You sound like the typical paranoid..."

Carter didn't back down. "If I'm sounding paranoid, then it shows nothing but that you taught me well, _Jack_!"

He huffed at what she had said, but didn't negate any of her words. It was well known that he was THE paranoid man of the SGC.

At last, in a more modulated voice, she repeated, "I ask again, have you seen Daniel lately?"

Jack glared. "And I told you, I talked to him just this morning on the phone."

"Talked to him... but didn't see him?" she reiterated.

Well... no. But of course Daniel was absent - he was on one of his translation kicks... wasn't he? "Isn't he... I don't know... what do archaeological linguists do when they're not on missions?"

Carter blinked, seeming to be glad that he didn't just write her off as a lost, crazy cause. "I'd be fine with this... except for one thing: ever since I've been in here, whenever Daniel got lost in a translation, he would eventually bring it to me to pick my brain, since he doesn't have Teal'c around anymore to pick _his_ brain." She meaningfully glared at Jack. "But I haven't seen Daniel in two and a half weeks. He used to come to see me every two or three days without fail, more often if he was having trouble with translating something."

Jack stared at her in disbelief. "He's done that for months, has he?" He couldn't see Daniel as someone you could count on to be so punctual. Daniel had been late for at least half of their briefings. "'Punctual' and 'Daniel' don't go hand in..."

"And where is SG-13?" Carter relentlessly continued. "They've been by to see me every week, for five months! Now, nothing, for weeks! You can't convince me that they've just been busy doing paperwork!"

Jack was at a loss as to what exactly she was getting at. Unless... "Don't tell me you think that Ba'al has the real them, too, and what we've got is their clones who don't want to see you in case you'll recognize them as impostors! That's just something that's..."

"Then where are they?" she bit off. "Why the sudden need to be anywhere but here?" She heaved in air like she'd run a marathon. "Why is it so hard to believe that Ba'al would do to them what he did to me?"

"But..." Jack spluttered. He wanted to argue against her points, to not believe her. In fact, he _did_ believe that she had been cloned - there was proof in that. But this! The idea that Daniel, as well as all of SG-13, were clones too was..! "But..." he blurted, ready to poke a million holes in her theory - like the fact that just because someone didn't show up as expected didn't automatically mean they were a clone; or like none of these suspected individuals had ever showed anything that looked clonish; or maybe these people were absent because Daniel and those on SG-13 were just extremely busy. Instead he abruptly found himself considering her idea, no matter how preposterous, wild, or crazy it was.

"But nothing!" Carter said emphatically. "We already know Ba'al has cloning capabilities. He fooled you, and you've got to be the hardest person to fool in the galaxy. What makes you think that he can't do the same thing to the whole base?"

The whole base? Jack couldn't help but think...

But Carter's next words were so quiet he had to strain to hear them, making them twice as horrifying. "What a perfect way to infiltrate the Tau'ri."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jack's heart froze in his chest for several painful beats when she said that. Her fears had sounded so ludicrous, almost hysterical, when she'd mentioned them earlier. But the minute she made that comment, Jack had to concede that she really did have a point, no matter how ludicrous it sounded. In fact, the more ludicrous, the better - they _were_ talking about a Goa'uld, after all.

Jack gazed at her unseeingly as he internalized what she had said. And so it was that he found the first hitch in her 'invasion' theory. "But Ba'al's main aim with the first clone was to get to me, through you. His goal has always been to get to me. If your idea is right, how is he getting to me when so many people are clones? That just doesn't..."

"He had such a..." Carter had to swallow so hard that it looked like she'd harmed herself in order to go on, "... such a success the first time... why shouldn't he try again, with a bigger goal this time?" She met his gaze, trepidation fully entrenched in hers. "Maybe you're not the target this time - we all are."

Jack stared at her, again pondering the validity of her idea. At long last he couldn't help but to teasingly say, "Come on! That just sounds so..."

Carter went from 'trepidation' to 'spitting mad' in an instant. "It's easier to think that I'm nuts! That this idea is so stupid that..!" She cut herself off to send him a look of disappointed fury. "I thought you would be different! That you would believe in what I think no matter how dumb it sounds, or at least give me the benefit of the doubt. I should have known better," she bitterly acknowledged, and made to jerkily leave again.

But as before, Jack's hand snaked out to halt her attempt at an acrimonious withdrawal. "Carter! Don't you dare run away now! This isn't about you!"

She gasped, "I know that! This is about a possible invasio..!"

"Then why did you just accuse me of not believing in _you_, listening to _you_? You know that I'll _always_ give you the benefit of the doubt, _always_..."

"It's always 'always' with you, isn't it?" she was practically crying in anger now. "But you 'always' disappear! I'm not sure your definition of 'always' is the same as..."

"When I say 'always,' that's what I mean!"

"'Forever,' Jack!" Carter insisted bitingly. "It means 'forever!'"

And in the space of one painful beat of his heart and the next, he finally understood that she wasn't talking about possible invasion scenarios anymore, or the time that clones might be on Earth, and it didn't matter what was Ba'al's goal this time. Instead, she was referring to the reason she had recently gotten hooked up with Shanahan, the way she'd moved on from 'them' seemingly without a second thought to...

Seeing red now, Jack was too angry to keep such a tight lid on his mouth. "I'm not the one who gave up the first chance I got!"

"You gave up long before I did!" Her eyes sparked with her own pain.

Jack was the one gaping now. "I _never_ gave up!" he insisted. "I still haven't!"

"You could have fooled me!" Carter blurted. "I gave you so many chances to tell me what you think, and you ignored all of them to..." She halted her angry tirade to glare daggers at him. "What was I supposed to do?"

Jack glared back at her. "You sure weren't supposed to shack up with the first guy to come..!"

She was immediately so furious that she was barely able to form her reply. "He was the only one who showed any interest!"

"I showed interest!" Jack protested, forgetting to keep his voice down, forgetting that he would rather be slowly tortured over the course of centuries than reveal anything so personal, forgetting that he owed more than his life to this woman, and therefore should be as respectful as possible to her. In what was a weak moment, he just wanted to hurt her back for hurting him.

Carter all but snorted in derision at him. "Do you mean the looks, the touches, the..?"

"You know that's what I mean!"

Carter's sneer was more pronounced because he had never expected to see that expression aimed at him. "You must mean the avoidance, the pretending that nothing exists, the 'let's leave it in the room!'" Her derision rose another level. "If that was 'interest' you were showing over those long years, I must have blinked and missed it!"

A furious Jack was a less guarded one - he was bringing up forbidden topics like discussing them was second nature. "It was your idea to leave it in the room, and you know it! I just agreed! What's so awful about that, since you were once again getting what you wanted!"

Carter now sadly shook her head. "You don't get it," she stated in a flat tone of voice that rattled Jack to his center.

Nothing could have deflated his anger faster than that particular tone coming from her. It was the voice of defeat. He would rather let Ba'al capture him again than hear that tone come from her. It was as if she had already given up on _them_.

And he thought in vindication: hadn't her engagement to Shanahan proved that?

Then suddenly an entirely new thought accosted him: was the engagement proof that she had given up on them, or was it a result of the fact that _she_ thought _he_ had given up?

The thought barely had time to register in his brain before she was going on in a mournful whisper, "This isn't about me. It's not about you, either. It's about _us_." She gestured halfheartedly between them. "If we can't move from you being my CO, and me being your subordinate, then there's nothing left to talk about." She looked sad beyond belief as she backed up a foot. There, she cautiously regarded him from under her thatch of bangs. "We obviously can't move away from Air Force rank. We fight if we even try." She didn't look at him now, as if she was saddened just by the sight of him. "Let's just let this die with dignity, and move on." She started to back away from him again in a symbolic move to end 'them,' but for the third time, Jack's good arm jerked out as he stopped her.

"Maybe you can turn this off like it's just some leaky pipes, but I can't, Carter. And I never will."

What Carter did next surprised him again. She leaned forward and without missing a beat, asked in a husky, emotional voice, "Do you trust me, Jack?"

The question took him aback. Did he _trust_ her? After all this time, she had to ask..? "You know I do, with my life!"

Her stare was unflinching. "But do you trust me with your heart?"

Jack reared back for a second time. How could she possibly ask such a thing? He felt a million feelings in the space of the next heartbeat: fear, truth, trust, not trust, love, hurt, hate, all right there in his eyes for her to see.

"That's what I thought," she whispered when he didn't... or couldn't... tell her the admittance that she so clearly wanted to hear.

Her sense of utter desolation stopped Jack in his tracks. He had never seen her so despondent before! It sucked the breath out of him. At the very least, it made him reconsider his actions before he knew what he was doing:

_Is she right?_ he screamed at himself. Had she finally shed light onto the real crux of the issue that had always been paramount between them? Was he really able to love her, but not able to fully give his heart to her?

But this was insane! He had given his heart to her years ago! She knew that! So why the need to ask this question _now_? She was nuts, no doubt about it!

But even as he mentally railed against her, another wisp of her idea uncoiled in the corners of his mind, swirled around his neurons, and embedded itself into his soul. Suddenly he was filled with images of Charlie, of Sara, of not wanting to go through what losing them had done to him ever again, of doing whatever it took to make sure that losing his whole heart a second time never happened again.

But this was Sam he was talking to and he knew it was already too late - he'd given his heart to her ages ago... hadn't he? She held his very existence in her hands, and had ever since the day he'd met her in the Briefing Room at the SGC. He trusted her with that heart of his... fully and completely... didn't he? All it would take... all it would have ever taken... was for her to say the word, to give him any indication that... and he was hers as absolutely as she was his... forever and ever and ever...

But...

There was that wisp again, that annoying, aggravating, irritating wisp of doubt, casting shadows, causing him to falter. Before he knew it, he was going over their every encounter from the past several years, testing, analyzing. What he discovered didn't make him appear as automatically pristine as he expected.

Hadn't she been right about giving him plenty of opportunities to spill his guts, to confess, to give her a reason to stay by his side, even if they weren't together in the typical sense of the word?

Yes... according to his way of thinking.

Yet... Was his way of thinking automatically her way of thinking?

On this second look, he began to see how she might have interpreted his actions the way she had.

As Jack considered his response to those openings she'd given him that he had seemingly callously ignored, he winced. From her perspective, it looked... There was no nice way to put this - he had run. Every single time. In all those times, he hadn't physically left her, but he might as well have. And when the shit had really hit the fan, he hadn't questioned why she was doing what she was doing, but had instantly disappeared... this last time, for months, leaving her to fend for herself... always alone.

Geez, no wonder she thought he couldn't give his entire heart to her.

Jack blinked like he didn't want to see things from her perspective, like he didn't know where here was, as if he was waking up from weeks of being unconscious, or as if he'd been trapped in a coma. Anything that might move away from the uncomfortable place his thoughts were now taking him. But he couldn't completely divorce himself from his new ideas as much as he would like to. Because now his thoughts had moved from _She might be right_ to _She's right, as usual._

Jack looked up at her, appalled.

"I've always trusted you with mine," she whispered in a heartwrenching confession. "You're the reason I fought for so many years, you and Teal'c and Daniel," she told him, then added, "But it was mainly for you. To give you the chance to finally..." Her voice choked off, and trailed to more silence, but when she tried again a moment later, her voice was sincere, genuine, and much steadier. "When I did... you always shut me down."

'I know.' The memory of another time when he'd shut her down came to him in loud insistence. The remembered thrum of the ship's engine room and the sparkle of crystals winking at him from a crystal drawer filled his mind. So did the timid presence of this woman, trying with all that was in her to defy her own terror and open up to him, to tell him what he meant to her... and he'd refused to let her speak. 'I know,' he'd said instead, as if those words voiced everything that she wanted to say, saving her from uttering words that could potentially harm her. He was keeping her safe.

Wasn't he? Now he second guessed what he'd always told himself about that incident. Had he really been keeping her safe... or was he afraid to let her actually say the words? As if by speaking, she would make real what he could still deny if he had to as long as nothing was spoken between them? That way he wouldn't have to deal with it, _really_ deal with it, and with her.

As he thought, Jack was filled with another solid insight: he had run, either literally or figuratively, then conveniently blamed her for his subsequent unhappiness when in truth, his unhappiness had been entirely his own doing. His, and no one else's.

Jack's thoughts swiftly pressed him into the back of his chair. She hadn't wanted to speak, as she'd said, and when she did want to finally talk, he hadn't let her. Ever.

It was like he'd told himself earlier - no wonder she had hooked up with Shanahan like she had.

It was then that he did something that he'd never done before. With the accusation she had just made still reverberating in the air, followed by her own numbing admittance, he whispered the only thing he could say to her at this point.

"I'm sorry."

Jack was so intent on just her that he missed anything else that was currently going on around them. He missed the way the other residents had stopped enjoying the outdoors and turned to watch them instead, due to the noise they had been making. He missed the way he and Carter had suddenly become the drama of the moment, and had caught the attention of the ever-present nurse/bouncer patrolling the yard. That nurse had turned towards them, obviously intent on intervening in what looked like a quickly escalating incident.

But before the nurse/bouncer had taken more than two steps in their direction, and before the eyes of anyone who was outside that day in the nursing home's front yard, the incredible happened. Carter felt steely fingers dig harshly into her shoulder at the exact same instant a beam of white light enveloped anything of human biology in the gazebo, whisking it all away.

A second later, all that biological matter rematerialized in the familiar surroundings of an indeterminate Asgard ship. As Jack and Sam had both been seated at the time of their transport, they fell the rest of the way to the silver deck beneath them, crashing hard onto their butts on the floor. Rubbing their behinds in eerie synchronicity, they both studied their surroundings.

The 'indeterminate' part of of the 'Asgard ship' equation was due to the fact that, in spite of their many adventures with Thor and his fellow Asgard, one Asgard vessel greatly resembled another, especially from the inside. Only the fact that Thor was now looking out at them from a dais let them know that they had any company at all.

And apparently Thor wasn't the only company they had.

His bulbous eyes bulbing even more than usual, Thor's sonorous voice washed over them, "O'Neill, Major Carter, is this a new member of your team?" And he gestured to the third person standing behind them.

Sam turned her head to abruptly become aware of the fingers still firmly clamped around her shoulder, even though her shoulder was now a good deal lower than it had been at the nursing home. Those fingers that now tightened in alarm were firmly connected to... Pete Shanahan.

She said the first word that came to her mind. "Crap."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jack stared at Pete half in amazement, half in disgust, then rubbed a tired hand across his tired face. "For crying out loud."

Pete straightened, but could only gape in open mouthed astonishment, taking in the sight of Thor still standing serenely on his dais, and the ship surrounding him. "You're... you're... an..." But his voice trailed off before he was able to finish his comment.

Jack scowled, annoyed at once again having Shanahan unexpectedly show up to complicate what was really a common occurrence to him and Carter. He was also very irritated that this man had come to interrupt what had been the only promising conversation that he and Carter had shared in the last several years. True, they had both been furious and yelling during that conversation, and struggling at its end, but they had been making progress, even if it was unspecified progress. According to the way his hand had landed possessively on Carter's shoulder, Shanahan had been intending to take her away and ruin the scene. Jack's patience with him was minimal during most encounters - now, it was basically nonexistent.

"Yes!" Jack testily affirmed to the gaping Pete. "Thor is an alien! We deal with aliens on a daily basis - you know that! What did you think we did all day? Sit around and knit?"

Pete continued to grunt helplessly. "I thought... thought... I..."

Sam's expression bespoke impatience as she said to Pete, "Will you please stop staring? It's rude."

When Pete continued to gape at Thor in spite of Sam's admonishment, she let her scowl wash over her. She had been holding back that scowl in her typical and (especially in this case) misguided urge to be polite to everyone she met. But she almost immediately abandoned such a sense of diplomacy. "Pete, stop staring at Thor like you expect him to combust at any moment."

He turned towards her, but was still unable to wipe the look of shock off his face, or to do more than issue a grunt every now and then.

To get him to not look like a rookie at his first murder scene, she added, "Believe me, you don't want to be rude to Thor - he's one Asgard you don't want to piss off."

In response, Pete blanched even further. "But Sam! He's a..! He's a..!" His shocked voice again vanished into nothing.

Carter's scowl now matched Jack's thunderous expression as she accused, "You knew that this is what we did, what we dealt with. You've known for months!" She turned to Thor standing quietly on his dais, watching the humans with interest. "I apologize, Thor," she firmly said. "Don't let Pete's rudeness influence your..."

Pete interrupted, ruder yet. "But Sam, he's an alien!" His tone of voice indicated that an alien was akin to being a particularly disgusting monster.

The growl that issued through Carter's tightly clenched teeth sounded loud in the following silence. "I know that, Pete!"

Pete didn't seem to register the disintegrating mood that came through in the sound of her voice. "Are we on an _alien_ _spaceship?"_ The way he said it, the idea simply appalled him.

Jack had to restrain himself from flippantly commenting on the fact that the cop had just declared that Thor was alien, and therefore, it was a good bet that Thor was on an alien spaceship, and it could be further concluded that since he was with Thor, then he was then on an alien spaceship, too.

But Carter's sarcastic retort sounded in place of Jack's. "An alien being present equals we're on an alien ship - how is this a hard concept to grasp?" The minute she spoke, she held up a warding hand. "I'm sorry - that remark was spiteful and uncalled for."

"No it wasn't." According to Jack, Shanahan-the-cop should be able to think on his feet faster than he was doing at the moment.

Carter shot Jack a rueful look, as if she wanted to agree with him, but addressed her ex-boyfriend. "Pete, I know this is a lot to take in right now, but you're the intruder here, and obviously Thor has something to tell us, or we wouldn't be here. I'm sorry that this was sprung on you so suddenly, but you already knew about the Stargate, and had to realize that the universal consequences of that infor..."

"But all that Stargate stuff - I thought you were making that up!" Pete wailed, losing what little dignity he still had. "I never actually saw it!" His wail had turned into a high pitched keening sound full of terror. "I thought...! We thought...! Me and Dr. Stubs thought you just had PTSD when you talked like that!"

The second his words registered, Carter's face went hard as anger once again took over. "If that's what you think, then you deserve to be shocked," she spat. "We're in something of a hurry here - keep up!" In a far more benign tone, she asked, "Thor, what's the problem?"

Thor seemed hesitant now that he was again the focus of their attention. "O'Neill, Major Carter..."

"_Colonel_ Carter," Jack corrected in a congenial voice. "We had a little promotion... thing... awhile back." He twirled his right index finger in the air to indicate the promotions that had happened since they'd last seen each other.

Thor blinked in response. "My apologies... Colonel O'Neill, Colonel Carter."

Carter corrected him as well, almost as if it was second nature, "And it's General O'Neill now... not that it matters." She self-consciously cleared her throat. "And this is Pete Shanahan," she introduced, almost as an afterthought. "He's my... was my..." She didn't continue, clearly not knowing what to call Pete. Or at least, what she should politely call him. "He WAS... but not anymore... though he clearly doesn't think so."

It was also clear that Thor was trying to understand what she wasn't saying. At last he just blinked his huge eyes and gave his head a thoughtful tilt. "Forgive my abrupt transport - I did not mean to interrupt your meal."

"Yes, we were sharing... but you didn't interrupt," announced Jack.

"No," said Pete. "You did."

"Shut up," demanded an exasperated Carter. "He did not."

Pete looked back and forth between Jack and Sam. "You weren't eating... you were fighting," he told them, as if they hadn't known what they'd been doing. "I heard you. The whole nursing home heard you!" He turned to regard Thor with sincerity practically oozing out of him and proclaimed, "They were fighting."

Thor blinked his huge eyes once again. "Was there a victor?" he asked in all innocence.

Jack scowled. "A victor?" He didn't like having the activities he shared with Carter to be the topic of idle conversation, even for one he respected as highly as Thor.

Thor blinked his eyes at Jack, indicating his broken arm. "You appear injured, O'Neill." Then he turned back to stare at Sam. "And though appearing uninjured, I note that Colonel Carter has not yet risen from the place she landed upon transport. Do you require assistance, Colonel Carter?"

Carter stared at Thor in stupefaction. "Uh..." She wasn't prepared to explain her injury just yet.

But Pete had no problem, and announced, "She lost her leg - someone named Ball took it." Then he frowned. "But don't you already know that? I mean, an all-powerful guy like you should..."

"Indeed, I did not previously know." And Thor's blinking took on a decidedly surprised aspect as he closely studied the Colonel. "When did this occur?"

Carter blushed, shooting Pete a furious look for even mentioning her medical problem. "Much as I like being the center of attention, I'm fine, Thor." Then she not-so-subtly changed the subject. "What do you need from us?"

Jack knew that Carter was most definitely _not _fine. But she didn't seem inclined to want to discuss her injury at Ba'al's hands, so he instantly played along with her, used to accepting her unspoken thoughts from years spent basically reading her mind in the field.

But Pete hadn't been in the field. He hadn't been a desk jockey, either. He hadn't been in the SGC at all. So he naturally didn't know enough about Sam to pick up on what she wasn't saying. He barely had a handle on what she _was_ saying. "She says something about him sending a clone to..."

But that was as far in his unwanted explanation as he got when Thor interrupted him. "Ba'al's cloning is the reason behind my desire to speak to you, O'Neill."

"Ba'al?" Jack parroted in uneasy disgust.

"Clones?" Carter anxiously inquired at the same time.

"First," added Thor, "I will heal you, O'Neill, before I explain further. Your arm is making me nervous."

Asgards could get nervous? They had feelings? This had never come up before with Thor. Frowning, Jack regarded his arm. What about a cast was there to cause a case of Asgard nerves?

"I don't..." he began to say, but again Thor interrupted him.

"Place your arm on my transport pad, O'Neill."

But Jack was suspicious, even of the Asgard. "What for?"

Thor blinked. "I wish to transport your... doohickey... off your arm so that I might fix your injury."

Carter gave a jerk. "You can transport with that degree of accuracy?" she asked in astonishment.

Jack continued to stare at Thor in suspicion as Thor did nothing more than stare back and blink, showing his lack of understanding as to why Jack hadn't yet complied.

That blank look of Thor's finally unnerved him. Still scowling, Jack slowly slipped off the sling he wore around his neck, then lifted his casted arm to rest on what Thor referred to as his 'transport pad,' though it looked just like any other Asgard console.

"You will feel a slight tingling sensation," Thor instructed as he concentrated for a moment, moving his rocks around in some pattern that only he understood.

Jack had visions of his cast disappearing, taking half his arm with it. Suddenly he wasn't sure he trusted Thor completely. He trusted him, but... he wasn't sure that he _trusted_ him. Just like he trusted Sam... but didn't. Another wave of guilt slammed into him from nowhere at that thought. He didn't like thinking about his inability to fully give himself to her... not when he'd thought for years that it was already a done deal. "Um, Thor, you don't have to..."

The cast disappeared in flash of white light.

Jack stared down at his arm that he hadn't seen in weeks. Even he could tell that the bones weren't fully knit together yet. The entire arm felt fragile, especially without the weight of the cast. "You know, maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"A few minutes in the medical pod will be enough to fuse the bones together again," Thor assured, his sonorous voice easily overriding Jack's protests.

Jack wasn't convinced so quickly, but even he admitted to himself that by now, he should know better. Thor was as trustworthy as they come.

And for that fact, so was Sam.

Even thinking along those lines brought a blush to his cheeks. The guilt was just as encompassing the second time as it had been the first. Lest that emotion consume him now, he suspiciously regarded the medical pod that Thor had conjured up beside him. His look heavy with innuendo, he muttered, "I hate these things."

Despite his lowered voice, Thor was still able to hear his soft words. "May I ask why that is, O'Neill?"

Taken aback that he'd been overheard, Jack still managed to say, "They're so..."

"Claustrophobic," he and Sam simultaneously responded.

Pete's eyes widened at the amount of unity in the answer, but all he did was ask, "Sam, you're claustrophobic? I didn't know that."

"Why should you?" Carter rhetorically asked, though all the while Jack knew exactly why she would claim to be claustrophobic. Her time spent in suspension inside the computer mainframe when that Entity had stored her essence there while her friends tried to find a way to save her must have left her feeling a heck of a lot more than simply claustrophobic!

But he was already feeling guilty enough about Carter. He didn't need thoughts about that Entity Incident to add to his rampaging emotions. With the beginning of a claustrophobic attack clamoring against his skull, Jack clenched his teeth. "Let's get this over with." And he awkwardly climbed into the pod.

Sam scooted across the floor to the pod, then used its edge to pull herself upright. "If it makes you feel better, I'll monitor things from here, Sir."

Jack winced at her struggles, but knew that she would refuse any help he offered. He just said, "Yeah, that does make me feel a bit better." He watched as Sam positioned herself at the side of the pod, then stretched out just before the pod closed, clutching his half-mended arm to his side. He willed the rest of his body to relax, letting his gaze rest on Sam, even though she wasn't looking at him, but at the pod controls. Then with no segue whatsoever, he fell asleep.

Five minutes later, he was awake again, his left arm completely mended and feeling as strong as ever. The top of the pod slid aside, and Jack climbed out, experimentally bending his arm as he did. "Thanks, Thor!" he exclaimed in gratitude. "It doesn't even hurt anymore!" The awe in his voice was palpable.

The awe on Pete's face was nothing short of thoroughly astonished as he stared at Jack's formerly injured arm as if he'd never seen an arm before. "Uhhhhhhhh..."

No one paid any attention to him. Now out of the confines of the pod, Jack continued to bend his arm back and forth, thrilled with Thor for helping him as he had. And Carter was simply too internally gridlocked to pay much attention to anyone outside herself. The awe in Jack's voice was still wreaking havoc on her psyche: it made another surge of guilt flash briefly across her features, and when Jack saw it, he suddenly recalled that it had been her assault that had broken his arm in the first place, and stopped acting so thrilled.

"I am glad that I was able to assist you in healing properly," Thor commented. "Now I am less nervous... I will tell you why I brought you here." He paused, then dramatically announced, "As you already indicated, Ba'al has returned."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Jack's brows rose. "Ba'al?"

"Ba'al?" Carter echoed.

"Ball?" Pete asked as his astonishment gave way to the distraction of what was going on around him. Yet, even though he was paying strict attention to everyone in the room, he clearly did not understand the significance of Thor's announcement.

"Yes," the Asgard reported. "It is believed that, along with your claim that he injured Colonel Carter, he has also broken the Protected Planets Treaty, though we cannot prove this assumption. He is currently administering a facility on Cimmeria."

"Cimmeria!" Jack exclaimed. "I thought the Asgard dealt with any Goa'uld threats on Cimmeria."

Thor's head gave a pensive tilt. "You speak of the way we helped you to vanquish Heru'ur when he had previously captured that planet as well as SG-1. Though Thor's Hammer is no longer able to protect Cimmeria, none of the System Lords have chosen to bother that planet after our encounter with Heru'ur."

"Scared them off, did ya?" Jack's expression showed his satisfaction at Thor's announcement.

"Indeed," Thor responded just prior to giving a look of chagrin that was most human. "But Ba'al slipped past our notice while we were battling the replicators."

Jack's forehead wrinkled in solicitation. "How's that war goin' for ya?"

"Not well," Thor stoically replied. "But that is not why I am here."

When Thor did not continue, Jack inquired, "What's old Balsy-boy done this time? You said something about clones? We know all about what he did to Carter, but..."

"We have reason to believe that Ba'al is operating a fully functional cloning facility on Cimmeria."

True to form, Jack's brows rose in disbelief at how Sam and Thor shared similar fears. "You don't say?" He should have known to give Carter more than the normal amount of credit for guessing the right answer this time as well as most every other time in the past.

Sam herself remained silent, though she was more familiar with Ba'al and his clones than she wanted to be. Still, Jack could feel the waves of 'I told you so' practically rolling off her.

Thor was quick to go on, "He has somehow obtained the ability to make clones, and the Asgard Council believes that he has current plans to use them to overtake several planets, yours among them."

Sam couldn't keep quiet after this second announcement, sounding tired instead of surprised. "Told you."

Pete gaped, amazed. He at least understood the alien's reference to his own planet. Didn't they? "Do you mean that clones will eventually take over Earth?!" he unceremoniously blurted, voicing the concerns that he thought they should all be having right now.

Thor nodded, and gave a languid blink, belying the seriousness of this topic. "Yes, we believe that is his plan."

"That's bad, isn't it?" Pete asked, narrowing the problem down to its most basic level.

"Yes," Thor repeated in his maddeningly emotionless way. "While an exact external copy of the subject, a clone's memories and allegiance can be altered. Though this was not chosen as an alternative during your earlier encounter with clones, O'Neill, Ba'al is undoubtedly altering his clones as much as possible in order to gain his objective."

Jack's face fell. "Which is... to take over Earth," he repeated. That's all the SGC needed right now: a System Lord with more than the normal delusions of grandeur.

Thor's blink was reluctant - or was that Jack's imagination? "Yes, as well as several other planets - or so The Council believes."

Jack's brows rose higher yet. "Take over with clones... how, specifically?"

Thor informed, "By using clones who are loyal to him, the Council fears that Ba'al will first overtake the SGC, and from there, plans to infiltrate and destroy Earth's government from the inside. After such a success, we suspect he will then do the same on other worlds throughout the galaxy."

Sam finished for Thor, "And as long as he doesn't alter the natural advancements on any planet he interferes with, there's nothing the Asgard can do without breaking the Protected Planets Treaty themselves."

Thor's reluctance was definite now. "Yes."

A wry snort exploded out of Sam. "So in effect, you're trapped by your own rules."

The reluctance skyrocketed. "You are correct once again, Colonel Carter."

Sam further guessed, "You can't help Earth, or Cimmeria, or anyone, without inviting retribution from the Goa'uld. You therefor want us to help instead, since there's nothing in The Protected Planets Treaty that says that any protected planet under Goa'uld attack can't help itself."

"Yes."

Jack was about to butt in with a bit more of an emotional response when Thor simply regarded him without batting an eye. "Officially, the Asgard know nothing about what is currently happening on Cimmeria, or to its inhabitants, or to Earth and its inhabitants.

"Wait," Jack flatly instructed and leaned back against the medical pod, letting it support his weight as he thought furiously. "You said that the Asgard Council doesn't _officially_ know anything about what's going on - right?"

Thor nodded.

Now looking like he was grasping for something that he was reluctant to grasp, Jack continued, "So... officially... how do the Asgard even suspect this Ba'al plan to begin with?"

"Loki informed us."

"Loki!" Jack's sickened yell gave full vent to his feelings, though he chose not to explore them. He didn't have to, anyway, as both Thor and Carter knew exactly how he felt concerning Loki. Pete, who had no idea what was going on, didn't count.

Thor was as imperturbable as ever. "I am afraid that I must report that Loki has escaped his Asgard incarceration and was conducting experiments on the Cimmerian people when he discovered that though they appear as normal Humans, they are not."

Jack's instant wince turned into a groan. "Of course he escaped! Why should we ever expect allies of the SGC to share this knowledge?" His glare intensified. "I'm beginning to have shades of the Tok'ra here!"

Thor ignored this second outburst, as he didn't know what it meant. "While watching the odd behavior of the Cimmerians, Loki then observed Tau'ri coming from what is believed to be Ba'al's cloning facility and going through the Stargate to a planet with an address coinciding with Earth's. The Cimmerians oddly did nothing to stop them." Thor momentarily appeared as puzzled as Loki must have been. "Though Loki has been more than a bother to Earth in the past, he did not wish the planet or its occupants to come to harm, and informed the Council of what he witnessed."

Jack sarcastically questioned, "He was classified as a _bother?_"

Thor gave Jack a look that Carter swore was exasperated. "Loki could have easily chosen to keep this information to himself. The Asgard Council had no knowledge of where he was, nor did they suspect the situation on Cimmeria. Loki went to much personal danger to inform the Asgard Council that there was a connection between what Ba'al was doing on Cimmeria and Earth. In spite of his past interference with your planet and you personally, O'Neill, it would have made much more sense for Loki to remain silent than to report the danger."

Jack's brows rose a third time, a trick considering he was also so annoyed. "And like you said before... this means us."

Grasping the crux of the situation with unusual speed for him, Pete broke in to note, "And Sam and the General are considered by the... whatever race you are... to be the right 'us'... uh, Earthlings for the job?"

Thor blinked. "Yes."

Pete frowned. "But how does this Loki fella know that the clones are... uh... clones? Don't they look just like us? Sam sure did."

Sam barely acknowledged that at least Pete was now willing to admit that she had once been cloned, too, before Thor's response sounded. "Loki's ship did a routine scan of these individuals, revealing the natural degeneration that all clones suffer. Clearly Ba'al has been as unsuccessful as the Asgard in solving this particular cloning defect. Which is why we need you, O'Neill."

Before Jack could respond, Pete's brow had wrinkled with his growing confusion. "What?"

Sam piped up, "They want Jack to deal with Ba'al and his clones because any clone of Jack will always look way too young to be mistaken for him, not to mention have weird brain waves." Her second order of 'keep up' was only imaginary, but it rang in the room nonetheless.

"Yes," Thor continued. "And it is assumed that the clones Ba'al sent to Earth will cause massive social chaos due to interference by this Goa'uld. As you know, we can do nothing for Earth when threatened with a catastrophe such as this." His voice grew sad.

Jack's forehead wrinkled in tandem with Sam's and Pete's. "You said that the Asgard 'assume' this clone/Earth takeover. Can you be sure?"

Thor gave another casual blink, again belying the serious topic under discussion. "Ba'al's specific plans are unknown, O'Neill, except that he is delivering clones to Earth. But I point out that in the past, Ba'al has been known to wreak havoc in whatever he chooses to do. We feel that it is safe to assume that his intentions are less than pure this time as well. It is our guess that he wishes to conquer both Cimmeria and Earth. The Asgard Council most definitely does not wish this to occur."

Pete gaped as Thor's voice faded. "But you just said that you're going to watch while Earth is... what? Can he destroy the planet? Blow it up?"

Carter responded in a dry fashion, "Most likely he'll destroy any resistance he finds, then make hosts or slaves of the rest of the population."

Jack ignored Pete's soundless gape to comment, "But no matter what he does, you can be sure that it's 'lights out' for Earth." He ran a shaky hand through his hair - he wasn't thrilled at the fact that the Asgard were so highly counting on him. Though he had wanted more than anything to return to the excitement of the field, he already knew that visiting a facility suspected of belonging to Ba'al was too much excitement even for him. Then Jack's gaze wandered over to Carter. "What about Carter - why is she here?"

Thor admitted, "I have scanned for Colonel Carter's signature in the SGC several times over the course of many months - since I had not found it, I assumed that she was either off world or had for some reason left the SGC." He sounded positively forlorn at this idea, but then his tone lightened. "I was delighted to find your signatures together when I transported you moments ago, O'Neill."

Jack gaped, zeroing in on a tidbit that Thor had unwittingly included in his explanation. "You've been scanning us - for months?"

Thor blinked, unaware of the social faux pas he had committed. (Or else fully aware or it, but choosing to ignore it.) "Loki's original report came to us half an Earth year ago."

Which would have been right about the time of Carter's discharge from the Air Force. Jack couldn't help but wince when he recalled what had happened to Carter next.

But something else was niggling at the back of his mind. "You said the Asgard can't get involved... officially... but that you want me to have a go at it - and Carter, now that you found her." His eyes scrunched up at his next words. "Since you brought us here, I assume that you have some kind of a plan in mind."

Thor blandly stated, "We had planned to ask SG-1 to help us. However, we cannot link to any biosigns for Doctor Jackson or Teal'c."

Carter numbly protested, "No, you won't find them - SG-1 no longer exists." Seconds later, she mumbled, "Though there was no way for you to know that."

"No, we did not previously know this." Thor looked as if this new information aggrieved him - though he didn't let it do so for long. "Yet even half of SG-1 is still the best hope for Earth."

"Earth's best hope," Jack repeated in disbelief. "You want us to stop Ba'al anyway?" Jack gestured between him and Sam. "Just me and Carter? Once again saving your ass..."

"Sir!"

Noting the intelligence of Carter's warning, Jack modulated his words to something more benign. "To save your little gray hides, and giving you what you want?"

Thor was at his blandest best when he said, "You will be saving Earth as well as our 'little gray hides,' O'Neill."

Jack gave an uncomfortable start. "True." But that seemed secondary when considering the thought of facing Ba'al's insurmountable forces once again.

To cover the tumultuous emotions that assaulted him every time he even thought about Ba'al, Jack quickly went on to ask, "Just how is it that you propose that we do this Ba'al breaking?"

Thor was quick to fill them in. "We propose that you infiltrate Ba'al's base on Cimmeria and destroy his cloning facility, then clear Earth of all its clones."

It was a typical Asgard plan - vague to the point of being virtually useless. Jack explosively snorted, "Oh, easy." The high amount of scathing is his voice was an unusual thing to hear while addressing the alien. "And specifically, how are we supposed to do this infiltrating, might I ask?"

The alien in question chose to ignore Jack's caustic tone. "That is up to you, O'Neill. As you human's tend to say, 'the less we know, the better.'"

Jack grimaced. No help. Which was a familiar state of affairs for any member of SG-1, past or present.

Sam did a little hop next to the medical pod as she thought through everything Thor had said so far, drawing everyone's

attention to her. "But what you're asking is pretty dangerous for the General. Going in without backup is never a good idea, but especially not in a situation this tenuous."

Thor gave her a bulbous blink. "I was unaware of your injury, Colonel Carter. I had no intention of asking O'Neill to 'go this alone.'"

"He won't be alone," Pete suddenly piped up. "I'll be his backup." He turned to regard Jack. "Just tell me what to shoot at and... That is, assuming that these guys have guns that we can borrow?" He gestured towards Thor.

"It will be unnecessary to use our weapons," Thor conversationally broke in. "I have transported aboard your projectile weaponry from the SGC."

Oyyyyy! Jack grunted once again in guilty frustration, his hand in his hair. "Carter and I... we're not part of the SGC any longer. We're retired."

"Well, I am," Sam corrected. "I don't know for sure about Jack being retired yet."

"Trust me," Jack then exhorted. "I asked for it myself. Hammond signed the paperwork right in front of me. I'm good and retired."

Thor broke in, "I was also not aware of your retired status." He sounded worried now. "This situation was unforeseen by the Asgard Council."

But Thor didn't go on to say that the Asgard Council no longer wanted him for this job since he was now retired. Jack sighed, once more irritated with the Asgard Council, yet fully understanding where they were coming from. "At least you can be sure that I'm not a clone - since you made sure I can't be cloned - and Carter's retirement pretty much assures that _she's_ not some clone."

"I'm not a clone, either," Pete interjected.

Thor blinked once again. "Initial ship's scans confirm this information."

Pete nodded, as if a ship scanning him was a common occurrence - or else because he didn't want to think about that too closely. "So - it's all set then - me and the General..."

This time, Jack skewered him with a look. "Will you stop doing that?" he demanded.

Pete shrugged. "Doing what?"

Jack was only too willing to fill him in. "Acting like you're gonna be some hero to the Asgard by going along on this mission, 'cause you're not invited!"

Pete immediately snorted. "Of course I'm invited - admit it, you need me!"

Jack sent him his fake look of puzzlement, as if he truly cared about Pete's mission status, which he didn't. "Want to explain the needing part?"

Pete gave another snort. "How the hell do you expect to get into that cloning place all by yourself? By yelling a lot and hoping that they think you're bigger and stronger than you are?"

Jack rolled his eyes, as if he knew something that Pete didn't. "Our numbers may be small, but _we_ have Carter."

Pete sarcastically reminded, "Who can't even walk by herself. What are you planning to do - wheel her chair in and hope for the best?"

"He's right," Sam softly noted, as if she'd never thought of this before, though knowing her, she had already thought of it several minutes ago and had been waiting for the others to catch up to her line of thinking ever since. "I'll be a liability if you take me along. With my leg gone..."

"I can fix that," Thor interrupted.

"Huh?" said Sam as she turned to the alien in surprise.

Thor's blink was sincere. "It is a simple procedure."

Jack choked when Thor said the word 'simple.' "Of course it is."

But Sam was staring at Thor as if he was her last hope. "Are you serious? You can give me back my leg?" She blinked as well, a numb movement over numb eyeballs, and mundanely pointed out, "But you don't have my leg."

"It is not necessary to have the original when we have the template," Thor assured.

The template? Why did Jack not like the sound of that? "Oh, here we go."

"The template?" Sam questioned, ignoring Jack's muttering.

"Certainly," said Thor. "It will be a simple matter of cloning your body, then moving your consciousness to the clone. It is nothing that every Asgard has not done many times."

But Sam was already shaking her head. "No offense, Thor, but look at what a mess cloning yourselves got you into - I don't want to become a degrading copy of myself. Thanks, but no thanks."

"But Sam!" Pete quickly argued. "This is your chance not to be crippled anymore!"

Sam whipped her head around to glare at him. "I'd rather be crippled than a copy! I'm not into the cloning thing, so no!"

Thor again looked aggrieved. "That is unfortunate." Then his eyes lit up as only an Asgard's could. "Perhaps Frazer will know how to help you."

Jack's brows rose. "Frazer? Haven't met that Asgard."

"She is one of our new healers."

"Healers?" Sam tentatively inquired. "Um, again, no offense, Thor, but since when do the Asgard have healers?"

Thor actually sighed. "It is admittedly an experimental approach. Frazer has obtained the knowledge held in what you call 'a medical degree.' She is as proficient as your doctors, yet has retained all Asgard medical knowledge as well. She went so far as to change her name from Eir to Frazer based on your own medical professional."

Jack's features were as scrunched as they could get. "She changed her name to..?"

At the same time, Sam blurted, "Frazer's based on..?"

"Your SGC doctor," Thor assured them.

Jack and Sam gaped as Thor continued, "She will surely be able to help you where I cannot."

Sam gaped even more - she simply couldn't help herself. She was having trouble grasping the idea that someone could help her, and apparently so easily, too, to say nothing of the name thing. "She can... make me a new leg?"

Thor merely looked at them all like what he was suggesting was simple. "She will attach it to your person as well as make one for you. But perhaps she can better explain the process." As an afterthought, Thor added the reminder, "The sooner you become mended, Colonel Carter, the sooner we can proceed to Cimmeria."

Jack's head spun. This was all going a bit too fast for him. "Whoa! Let us catch our breath first!"

Thor blinked again. "As you wish, O'Neill, but do not catch too much of a breath. Again I remind you that it is your planet that is currently being overrun by clones. We cannot be too rushed."

So Jack was only able to breathe heavily a time or two, staring out into the room as he did so, a lost look on his face. It appeared that he was completely bamboozled by Thor's announcements, but Sam knew that he was simply taking a moment to process the news that Thor had so precipitately dumped on them, his strategic mind already planning how best to handle this newest crisis.

Pete, of course, didn't know what he was thinking, and reacted only to what he saw. "I thought this is just the kind of thing you guys deal with all the time. So what are we waiting for - let's go save the world!"

But Jack's finger instantly shot into the air, arresting the detective's movements. "Wait! I'm thinking."

Pete grimaced at the delay. "What's to think about? The little guy... Thor... said it all - Earth needs us! Come on!"

Carter shot a dark look in his direction before Jack even had the chance to say something. "And rush right in so Ba'al can capture us in ten seconds or less? That wouldn't be too smart, would it?" She growled, but visibly reigned in her growing temper. "Look, Pete, you don't know anything about Ba'al, and..."

"Oh, and you do, huh?" scoffed Pete from across the room.

Carter sent him another scathing look. "As a matter of fact, I do. The General knows more about him than he wants to. We want to do this job for Thor, yeah, but we also want to come out of it alive so we can enjoy the fact that we did it. So just... shut up!"

Jack was a bit surprised at the abruptness that Sam continually used in her dealings with Pete, but then remembered that she'd had many months of unpleasant altercations with the man to back it. Distracted from his thoughts about how best to handle the Ba'al/clone situation, he focused instead on the immediate problem.

"Ok. First things first. Let's get Carter squared away - this thing is a bust if the Asgard can't do their miracle thing to Carter's leg." His voice was the clipped tone of the military commander that he was. However, the gentleness of his motions when he scooped Carter into his arms belied the blunt tone. "So Thor, point us in the right direction to this Frazer person, and we'll let her do her thing."

Thor blinked again, his reaction to almost every new occurrence. "I am able to procure what you call 'crutches' for the Colonel, O'Neill. There is no need to carry her." He quickly moved his control rock across the board in front of him, concentrating.

Jack was quick to insist, "Thanks buddy, but Carter and I have a fight to finish - remember? If I carry her, I'm forced to deal with her, and we can fight all we want. Just point me in the right direction, and we'll be on our way." His gaze turned to take in Carter firmly encased in his arms. "That is, if that's alright with you?"

Carter dryly stated, "I know what a concession it is for you to even ask. Just don't drop me when you get mad at what I might say."

"I won't," Jack promised. "But this way, I can't run away again without either taking you with me, or propping you up on the nearest wall first. I figure that'll give you enough time to punch my lights out."

Thor held out one of the Asgard stones to Jack. "I will feel better if you accept one of our communication stones. With it, you will never be more than a call away."

Jostling Carter, Jack took the stone in one hand. All the time, he tried hard to exude confidence when he had none. "Gee, thanks Thor. You don't know how this reassures me."

Unaware of his sarcasm, Thor just added, "The Infirmary is up one level and five corridors over. Enjoy the rest of your fight."

"Thanks, Thor. I... er... owe you one." Jack hefted Sam higher into his arms, then calmly walked toward the door.

"I'll go with you," Pete announced, his furtive glance at Thor saying without the need for words that he didn't want to be left alone with an alien.

"You weren't invited," Jack rudely told him. "Get more intel from Thor on those clones. We need to know all we can about them and Ba'al's assumed plans if we're gonna do this." With that, he walked straight through the door, leaving a gaping Pete behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Carter's amusement was palpable. "This _is_ all new to him, Sir," she gently pointed out. "While I don't necessarily want a shadow, either, we shouldn't leave him at the..."

"He's known what we do for months, Carter. He can handle a little alien here and there." Jack's interruption was as abrupt as his earlier words had been.

"But he didn't believe me about the aliens," she reminded him, momentarily tightening her hold on Jack's neck, linking her fingers together near his hair.

Jack noticed her move, the potential for a romantic interpretation loud in her action. But Jack wasn't fooling himself; there was nothing remotely romantic in Carter's overtures so far that day, and he refused to let himself believe that just because he had Carter in his arms for the first time ever, she was going to melt in romantic longing. Carter wasn't the melting kind.

"Not our problem," Jack responded to her argument. "Besides, what are you doing defending him? I thought you were so fed up with him that..."

"I'm not defending him, Sir!" Carter's face swooped into a severe frown that said much more than she did.

"Then what's your point?" Jack softly inquired.

Carter momentarily halted her agitated movements in his arms in order to think, scowling heavily the entire time. "This is a lot to take in, that's all. If I were thrown into this, I'd feel a bit more disposed to believe all of it if everyone involved at least cut me a little slack."

Jack sent her a dubious look. "And that's all this is, huh? No better feelings for him, or..?"

Sam's snort cut him off. "No! I was just thinking of him in a general sort of way. I really don't care if he understands all this, or if he jumps out the nearest airlock." She suddenly grinned in his direction. "Why? You didn't think I would do something so insane as feel sorry for him, did you?"

Jack cocked his head in concession. "Well, I do know you, Carter. That's something you would do." Then he hefted her more firmly in his arms once again. "But I don't want to talk about Pete Shanahan right now."

They had reached the Asgard equivalent of an internal transportation device by this time, and Jack moved himself and Carter into the small space. Brief panic flared in him as he failed to find any destination buttons on the wall, but then remembered how advanced Asgard technology was, and without further thought, said, "Infirmary." His command given to nothing but the air around them had an immediate effect. The doors closed with a swoosh, and Jack had to quickly brace himself as the small transporter rose a level, then skittered sideways. _You'd think that a species as advanced as the Asgard would have transporters that out-teched the equivalent of an elevator._

Jack ignored the swaying of the lift to regard the woman in his arms with a wry look. "So, you wanna go first, or should I?"

Sam's dry amusement didn't abate. "There's really nothing to discuss, Jack. We can't even talk about any 'us'... you run and avoid, and I clam up. I don't see that rehashing any of this will do any good."

"Stop," he said to Carter just as the transporter halted - they had reached their destination. Jack carried Carter into the hallway, but paused on his trek to the Asgard Infirmary. "I can't run now without taking you with me, or dropping you on your butt, which I don't wanna do. Here's your chance to talk if you ever wanted to. So take it," he lightly ordered, hoping to look as if he wasn't aware that a reaming was coming his way.

Sam mournfully sighed.

"That's not a good sound," Jack suspiciously noted, hefting her again. "Don't think so hard. Just let me have it." His glare emphasized his next words. "And you have to tell me what you honestly think. This won't work if we let the rank thing get in the way again."

Sam's second sad sounding sigh split the air of the empty corridor. "Jack, I don't want to hurt your feelings, or..."

"We might as well be honest, like you said," she lightly interrupted. "Though I don't think there's anything to talk about anymore."

"That's where you're wrong," Jack interjected. He'd never thought he would ever say to Carter that she was wrong, but he figured there was a first time for everything. "You did the moving on thing, and I guess I don't blame you for that."

Sam's brows rose in surprise. "You _guess?_"

Jack scowled, admitting, "Okay. Maybe you had good reason. Maybe you gave me the opportunities to open up to you when you and the guy were..." He gave a head bob to indicate the time she'd spent contemplating Pete's marriage proposal. "That time... and maybe you didn't give me the _right_ openings then. Anyway," and he forcefully cleared his throat before she could react to his assertion. "You might have predicted that when you gave me those openings, I would do the avoiding thing..." She looked as if she wanted to protest, but he stopped her. "Ah! What I'm saying," he went on in a softer tone, "is that if you wanted me to say something at the time to stop you, you should have pushed me into a supply closet and told me." He gave a confessional wince. "I'm a pretty dense guy. You need to lay it straight out for me."

Protests were still on the tip of her tongue, but again he stopped her. "I know that it's not your way to speak out," he asserted. "And there was the whole rank and regulation thing... and those are pretty important things to deal with. But my point is we each know how the other will react to that kind of emotional situation."

A silent moment went by as a familiar haze fell over Carter's blue eyes. Jack recognized the expression immediately - she was thinking again. Before he could again remind her not to think so hard, she cautiously suggested, "Maybe we shouldn't let the other do that." At least she was thinking about them - she wasn't just reacting any longer.

"I guess that... this talking thing... we've never really gotten into that, have we?"

Jack tilted his head in agreement. "Not really."

"Maybe... I shouldn't have expected you to... do that talking thing." She shrugged a shoulder. "Well, you're talking now... why don't you tell me what you were thinking... thinking then, I mean."

Jack gave her an assessing gaze, and instead of telling her his thoughts about the whole Pete thing during the Pete thing, said, "I don't really need to tell you anything, do I? It wouldn't have taken you two weeks to accept his proposal if you didn't already know what I was thinking, and was trying to talk yourself into ignoring it." He slowly moved forward again.

Carter gave a partial wince and a partial huff of frustration.

But before she was able to respond in any way to his comments, Jack reluctantly confessed, "And... maybe I shouldn't have avoided like I did." His reluctance increased as his confession continued. "Maybe... I should have stayed to fight... without looking like I was fighting." His reminder of having to deal with the regs while dealing with all that other Pete-mess was helpful in letting her know what he had been up against at the time. "But maybe... if I was ever going to stay and fight... for you, that is..." he uncomfortably added. "That was the time." Jack looked chagrined as well as honest. "I'd already messed up once," he said, referring to his marriage to Sara. "Why did I want to do that again?"

Sam sighed once more, but the tightening of her hands on his neck was a less antagonistic motion this time. "I guess you have a point. It _is_ like me to just give up even though I know what you're likely to do. But if I had shoved you into a supply closet, then told off my CO, you would have just gotten mad and pulled rank, just because I'd made you uncomfortable if nothing else, and I would have been scrubbing toilets in Siberia before I could say 'naquedah.'" She shook her head. "It wasn't worth the risk, and I would have known that."

"I would never transfer you to Siberia," Jack asserted. "No matter what you did. Pulling rank... I might have done that," he admitted, then gave her an inquisitive look. "But do you really think I would have done the Siberia thing?"

Sam considered. "I can see you pulling rank if I embarrassed you. And maybe you wouldn't have sent me to Siberia... but the scrubbing toilets thing..."

"Carter," Jack broke in to warn. "I would never let my personal life direct professional orders like that."

The look she sent him was more sarcastically wry than aggressive. "You expect me to believe that?"

Jack hedged. "Ok. I wouldn't do that when I had time to think better of it."

"By then I'd have been on my way to Russia," she told him. "Accepting Pete's proposal seemed better than the alternative."

Jack's face momentarily darkened at this mention of the cop, but he pushed down the temper fit he instantly wanted to have in favor of saying, "Ok, _you_ have a point this time." He slowly resumed his trek towards the Infirmary. "I guess what I'm trying to say is you can't let me avoid and run like you know I'll do."

She looked contrite. "And you can't let me clam up like you know _I'll_ do."

They had crossed where the fourth corridor intersected with the main hallway they were in, and he knew the Infirmary was only a few steps away. Jack slowed to a stop once again, right outside the door. "What do you say to us knowing that we both did what we did, we both could have handled things differently, and..."

"... _should_ have handled things differently," Carter ruefully amended.

Jack acknowledged her comment, but didn't stop speaking. "We _should_ have known each other better... in fact, we did, if we had stopped long enough to realize that." He scowled to show his discomfort with the direction his thoughts were drifting.

Seeing that he was quickly becoming lost in memories that were far from pleasant, to distract him Sam said, "We could have called the other one on what he or she was doing..."

"But we didn't." Jack's voice was little more than a whispered sigh of regret at this point. This emotional discussing was hard for him to do, and these faults were difficult to admit to, but at least he was giving it his best shot. "Let's agree to disagree, and move on from there."

Carter's brows slipped into her hairline. "Move on... from each other?" she asked in an incredulous voice.

"I was thinking more of _with_ each other," Jack said in that same soft voice. "That is, if you think you can stand it... me." Then he grimaced. "Or want to."

Sam's third sad sigh wasn't what Jack expected or wanted to hear. She silently glanced the way they had come, clearly thinking. Jack was about to tell her not to over think things again when she decisively replied, "I would like that."

When she fell into silence once more, Jack's heart grew heavier and heavier as he prodded her, "I hear a 'but' in there."

"But..." she dutifully said as she turned back to look at him, her eyes sad beyond anything he'd anticipated. "What happens if we argue sometime? You'll want to throw this mess in my face, and I'll want to..."

"Let's agree right now not to bring this up again, ever," Jack quickly suggested, hearing her hesitance, but also hearing her hope.

Sam furrowed her brows. "Can we do that? It's too perfect a thing for you to not bring up sometime, or for me not to throw the idea of Pete at you, or..."

"Carter, don't." Jack gave an audible groan. "Yes, it's a perfect point to argue with, to make the other feel like crap... and there will probably come a time when I want to do it, too, just to win an argument. But... The last thing I want to do, ever, is to hurt you. Using this engagement situation would be a pretty stupid strategic decision on my part."

Sam slowly added, "I don't want to hurt you, either. I admit it would be a bad thing for me to to do, too, strategy notwithstanding." She looked as if she didn't quite know what to do now that she seemed to be on the brink of agreeing with him.

Jack, fortunately, wasn't so restrained. "And I'll be the first to admit that I don't want to go back - not to the way things were; I don't want to become nothing more... more than professional colleagues again. I don't..." This was difficult, but Jack didn't see any alternative - if he resorted to letting her read his mind once again, there was always the danger that she miss every important point he wanted to make. "I don't want..." Dangerous didn't mean it wasn't hard as hell! "... don't want to feel like I need to use... humor and teasing... all the time... to cover up how I... I really feel." Now that he was saying these words that he'd thought so many times, Jack found that the act of saying them was both easier and harder than he'd predicted. "I don't..." That didn't mean this wasn't as hard as hell! "... don't want to fret... over every look and... touch and... glance we might... share. I want... you know - the whole shot."

Sam peered assessingly at him. It was again the most open, albeit halting, he had ever been with her, and she was so much more used to dealing with Jack on a closed off level.

At last, Sam lifted her bad leg. "What if this thing with my leg doesn't work out, and I'm the same Sam Carter that I am now?"

"Don't care," Jack firmly stated.

Carter appeared surprised. "That was fast. Are you sure you don't want to think this over a bit first?" She was more than aware of how temperamental she could be now, even if he wasn't.

"Don't need to." Jack's voice was still filled with firm intent. "And anyway, don't you need to do the same? When you look at this from the outside, we're both what they call 'damaged goods' - maybe you should take that into account."

Sam didn't immediately deny or affirm his claim. She considered everything once more, just as she always carefully considered everything.

"You're thinking again," Jack wryly told her. "Stop." He let his forehead touch hers, and whispered, "I trust you, Sam. And you know how hard as it is for me to completely trust anybody." Jack minutely tightened his arms around her, giving emphasis to his words, "Now trust me back."

Sam wanted to let her thumb caress his cheek, but wasn't quite able to make the leap necessary to touch him like that just yet. But she was able to tell him an emphatic, "I do trust you... with my affections, I mean, not just with my life. I know I shouldn't, and I've tried to talk myself out of it, but I can't help it." She smiled what tried to be a soft lazy expression, but came out as more of a grimace. "What if you regret this?"

"I hope _you_ don't." What had they just decided? Had they actually decided anything? He decided all by himself to try to push his chances. "Should we seal it with a kiss?"

Carter's eyes grew slightly cloudy. "Is that pushing things too fast?"

Jack's patient voice indicated his impatience with that idea. "Carter, if you think that I'm waiting one minute longer to kiss you after all this time..."

But the idea of a kiss, and the complete dream of them by extension, was cut short by the annoying sound of an Asgard clearing its throat.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Jack's eyes widened as he realized that he and Carter had an audience. "Woah!" He reared back, nearly losing his grip on Carter in the process. "Who the hell are you?"

The typical Asgard blinking began - it wasn't the first time that the blinking made Jack wonder if it was a defense mechanism for the entire race. "I am Frazer," the Asgard calmly announced. "I am here to assist Major... Colonel Carter in repairing her leg."

It was a statement that didn't make the least impression on Jack; he was too annoyed. "Do you mind?" he caustically said, his scowl firmly intact as he was marginally aware of Carter smoothing her hand over her lips in a sly attempt to hide a smile. He wanted to kiss Carter. She was as amenable to that idea as she'd ever been... for an aware Carter, that is. He wanted to grab this opportunity while he could. "We're busy - give us a few." Jack dismissed the alien with as little interest as he had given its words, turning more fully back to Carter.

But a second throat clearing interrupted him again. Jack's patience was reaching his dangerously short limit, even though the alien was a friend of Thor's. "What?"

Frazer continued, still blinking furiously. "I do not mean to intrude, but I was under the impression that Commander Thor's mission is of vital importance. As his mission is dependent on the completion of my mission..." Frazer let her voice trail to silence as she gave Jack a look of disapproval, blinking the entire time.

Jack groaned loudly into the quiet corridor as Carter finally let herself go, and laughed. "Ok!" he finally barked, very reluctantly acceding to fate. He hefted the giggling Carter more firmly, then under his breath, muttered, "I finally almost get to kiss the girl, and I'm stopped by Thor's demonic look-alike."

"This way," Frazer was saying in a businesslike tone now that she had succeeded in getting the human's attention. She clearly expected Jack to follow.

But Jack only gave a huff of peeved, put-upon annoyance, which made Carter laugh even more. When he glared at her, she protested, "You have to admit this is funny, Sir!"

All Jack said was, "Don't call me 'Sir,'" before giving into his fate as gracefully as he could (not very gracefully), and grumpily following Frazer into the Infirmary.

"Then don't call me 'Carter,'" she quipped in response.

Jack muttered, "Whatever you say, Carter," as Frazer led them over to the pod-like Asgard response to a sarcophagus.

"Just drop me in, Sir," Carter replied, all business now that they were faced with the cylinder that would change her life - she hoped. And she wasn't exactly upset that Frazer had interrupted that scene with Jack just now. She needed to think about what he was proposing first - she always needed to think about things. But she endeavored to hide these thoughts behind a businesslike veneer. It was what she expected of herself, and what Jack expected, and... but she was supposed to be doing what wasn't expected.

"Stop thinking, Carter," Jack whispered to her in severe exasperation as he helped her to lie down. "You want to overthink things again - don't."

As Sam lay down and visibly stopped thinking - grumbling the entire time - Jack noted that this medical pod had a lot more buttons and doohickeys attached to it than the pod in Thor's chamber that had repaired his broken arm. "When you come out, we'll talk more about the... our um... almost..." He indicated himself, then her. "You know," he inelegantly whispered in Carter's ear, telling her without telling her that he would be right there waiting for her to wake up - he wasn't going anywhere.

Her eyes met his. "Can't wait," she quietly told him after a silent moment, telling him without telling him that she understood exactly what he wasn't saying.

"Good," Jack whispered back, and the pod slid closed. "Ok, Frazer, I'm trusting you to make this quick. Thor's..."

Frazer interrupted. "Commander Thor has spoken about your impatience, O'Neill, but this is not the time to be rushed. I have already done what I can to speed the process. You must give me a few moments."

It was strange to hear the Asgard version of his words thrown back in his face. Jack did his best to ignore the little alien even as he inquired, "Just what is it that you're doing to her?"

Frazer was blunt and to the point. "I am cloning her lost leg..." At Jack's look of antipathy, added, "Her leg, not her body. Then I intend to attach it to her existing tissue. I only hope that there has not been too much tissue damage that her body rejects the cloned leg. From what I have ascertained thus far, rejection should not be a concern, but I wish you to be prepared for anything to occur."

In spite of Frazer's assurances, Jack winced each time the alien said the word 'cloned.' He knew how Carter felt about the whole cloning thing - he wanted her along on this mission of Thor's badly enough to know that he shouldn't tell her a thing about this procedure. She had probably already guessed, anyway. "Just hurry it up, will ya?"

Imperturbed, Frazer's eyes never strayed from the pod's control board as her gentle reminder rang out. "As I told you before..."

"You can't hurry," Jack finished for Frazer on a grimace. "Just... do your magic."

Frazer argued, "It is not magic, but a process of..."

"Just..!" Jack's grimace deepened. Friend of Thor's or not, he was beginning to have a deep dislike of the Asgard medical professional!

"I will," Frazer conceded, as if she could read Jack's mind, and blinked furiously.

Jack wondered how she could see with all the blinking she was doing, and blew out a breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding. "Good."

It grew quiet in the medical bay as Frazer moved stones, pushed buttons, and otherwise magicked the pod into repairing Carter's lost leg. The amount of concentration the Asgard was showing obviously said that Ba'al wasn't going to have the last word where Carter was concerned as long as she had something to say about it.

The little alien really did remind him of Fraiser in an odd sort of way.

Carter had only been in the pod for awhile when Pete suddenly hurried through the door and began speaking a mile a minute - he reminded Jack of Daniel. "Thor - the little guy - says to hurry it up in here - you're taking too long."

"Don't rush Frazer!" Jack acerbically shot back at the man.

Frazer paused for a moment in her movements to shoot her own assessing glance at Jack, but remained silent. She went back to her pod monitoring unasked, but it was pretty clear what she was thinking.

Pete threw up his hands in exasperation at Jack's apparent dark mood. "I'm just repeating what the gray guy said. Don't shoot the messenger!"

Jack's look darkened even more to become positively thunderous. "Are you saying that I should shoot Thor, instead?"

Pete's expression was the one to darken this time. "Look, you and these alien dudes work that out among yourselves. I just came down to see how my wife's doing."

Jack could have spit fire at Pete. "She's _not_ your wife!"

Pete didn't back down. "I have a wedding license that says differently."

It was Frazer who halted this line of argument. "Silence will assist me in hurrying."

That sentiment was clear - either shut up, or get out. Jack recalled all the times he had been thrown out of an Infirmary before, but as he'd already promised Carter that he would be there when she emerged from the pod, he decided that shutting up was the better part of valor at this point. Frazer was beginning to resemble Fraiser more all the time.

An uneasy silence fell on the medical bay, broken moments later only by Pete's subdued voice. "So, we going to blow this joint and storm that cloning castle, or what?"

Jack's look was now nothing but feigned confusion. "What's this 'we' stuff? There is no 'we.' There's me, and there's Carter, assuming Frazer can do her thing. I'm not taking some yahoo cop with me on a mission like this. So forget it - once we get to somewhere with a Stargate, you can Gate home. But plain and simply put: you're gone."

Surprisingly, Pete latched onto the one piece of information in that short speech. "So you admit it - you plan on going someplace specific first, I assume to get help - that is, since you plan to go somewhere with a Stargate. I assume that a planet that has a Stargate on it will also have help on it. But none of that even matters - again I point out, we're in something of a rush here!"

"Not that big of a rush!" Jack growled, still trying to keep his voice down per Frazer's orders. However, his mounting anger at the cop's denseness was making it hard. "What part of 'we work alone' don't you get?" And he motioned between him and Sam. "My team and I don't need any civilian enthusiasm mucking up our system!"

Pete gave a huff of air. "You've got you, and maybe a walking, working Sam Carter. But even you've said at the Home that the Jackson guy is a no-go clone. And you don't know where the big guy is. Maybe you'll find him, maybe you won't. So you really only have half a team. The point I'm trying to make is I'm here right now - and I'm volunteering!"

"I don't care what you do!" Jack quietly exclaimed. "I'm not stupid! You don't know what we're dealing with on this mission!" He gave a disdainful curl of his lip. "You're not coming - end of story."

Pete's glare became more arctic yet. "I'm as trained in combat as you are."

"Street combat, not Jaffa combat," Jack pointed out. "These guys aren't petty criminals - they're warriors who would as soon kill you as speak to you. This is the big league where people get killed if you mess up just once. I've got to know that I can count on you, and right now, the only thing I really know about you is that you like to infiltrate this country's military operations, then lie about why you did it." Jack was beginning to breath hard as he recalled that onworld mission between Osiris and Daniel where only his affection for Carter had kept him from beating Pete to a pulp for interfering with SG-1's mission. "The answer is no."

Pete's glacial stare bored into Jack, belying the man's earlier comment on his ability to lie about why he had been where. "Yeah, well... then you're an idiot, O'Neill, and not this great commander that Sam keeps telling me about."

"I don't care what you think of me, Shanahan!" Jack retorted. "My team's still alive, after eight years of battling Jaffa - I wouldn't be a very good team leader if I caved in to stupid commentary like yours!"

Pete was almost beside himself with anger, but it was a controlled anger. "In case you don't get it, I'm volunteering, O'Neill! I'll probably get killed! But I want to go, and only a stupid commando dude turns away free help, no matter what shape it comes in!" He paused to regroup before starting on a new tangent. "Besides, I bet you're pretty well known to the System thingies."

"System Lords!"

"Whatever! The point is, I bet this Ball guy knows all about you! I got the impression that you and him go way back, as if he'd recognize you right off. And if he'll know you, he'll know Sam, and Jackson, and that tall guy. But me - he don't know me from anyone. I could waltz right in there and..."

"And what? Blow the joint right under his nose?" Jack sneered. "Ba'al's not stupid! He would never let you do that! And even if he does, I won't!"

Pete gave a sneer of his own. "And it's cop rule number one that if you don't want to be detected, you go into a mission looking as much like the bad guy as possible! If you're such a great team leader, how come _you_ don't know _that?_"

The query made Jack pause for just a moment. It was a good question - why hadn't they gone in looking like Jaffa before now? It instantly gave their chances of success a positive boost.

But Jack was willing to die before telling Shanahan that he'd made a good point. He opened his mouth to make another retort.

"I am done," Frazer said from her spot on the dais, unknowingly (or knowingly - you could never tell with those Asgard) cutting off Jack's reply.

Done? Already? But Jack hadn't said half the things he wanted to say to Pete yet, or about his screwy ideas on the camouflage issue.

And they were screwy, weren't they? He pictured them storming Ba'al's Cimmeria facility as themselves, making it ten steps before getting captured, then juxtaposed that idea with them slipping in undetected as Jaffa wearing concealing head gear, clanking so much that they fit in with everyone else, and being free to blow the joint at their own convenience.

Jack had to agree that this idea had merit enough for a good commander to consider. It might even work.

Yet, he just couldn't get over the fact that a good idea had come from Shanahan. That just made him... ugh! If the cop ever found out he was considering his ideas, he might just have to be sick right here in the Infirmary.

Which would end up putting him in Frazer's care, and somehow, Jack just knew that he didn't want to do that. If Fraiser had been The Napoleonic Power Monger, then Frazer was probably the supreme Power Monger, Asgard style. The idea of being at the mercy of a Napoleonic Asgard... ACK!


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

In spite of the hurried Asgard time table, nothing had been decided about how to handle putting a stop to Ba'al's Cimmeria facility several hours later. By the time talks of strategy began, Carter had been released from Frazer's merciful(?) care, and had grown more accustomed to actually being able to walk on two feet rather than jump around on her one good foot. True to his initial thoughts, Jack hadn't told Carter where her new leg had come from, and fortunately, Carter hadn't asked. It was almost as if she knew that she didn't want to know.

They were now grouped together in the ship's control room, discussing whether they could afford to turn down Thor's mission or not. The 'they might be killed while doing this' was a bit of a downer, but the idea of getting Teal'c to lend them some camouflaging Jaffa armor for this mission was an encouraging notion. At least, it wasn't _dis_couraging.

Carter looked first at Jack, then slid her gaze to take in Pete, who had insisted on joining Thor and the two ex-military members as they discussed this mission's possibilities. She shuffled her feet back and forth as she spoke, as if she still had trouble believing that she once again had two feet to shuffle. She still chose not to acknowledge any feelings she might have concerning Frazer's procedure, though, focusing on Thor's proposed mission instead. It was an old trick of hers to keep from pondering radical things, such as how she felt about what had been happening to her in the last day, in the last months, or with Jack in particular. Though a relationship with him was what she'd always secretly wanted, having it within her grasp at last was too scary to even contemplate. Plus, according to US law, Sam Carter was still married to Pete Shanahan. She didn't know what she was going to do about that, since he adamantly refused to give her the divorce she'd repeatedly requested. But she was ignoring all this in lieu of more professional concerns. It was Sam Carter at her denying best.

"So we're actually thinking about doing this?" she ascertained.

Jack watched her with narrowed eyes, as if he knew exactly what she was doing, and why, but had decided to go along with her, for now. "First things first... er, second," he corrected, remembering that fixing Carter's leg had been first. "We find Teal'c. He'll know all about what the Jaffa have been doing on Cimmeria. Then we see if Bra'tac has heard anything. Maybe Rya'c will even be free to join us in this nutty... thing."

"Rya'c... and Kar'yn," Carter pointedly said, her feminist side shrieking loudly, if silently, at the injustice of his limited suggestion.

Jack mollified that side of her by saying, "Yeah, that's what I said."

She refrained from saying anything, but the look on her face said it all for her: she was pacified, but still skeptical as to his sense of fair play. Old habits created through years of experiencing male military jargon was hard to ignore, even for someone as open-minded as General O'Neill.

Superseding all of what Sam wasn't talking about was Pete's galactic exasperation with Jack. "How many times do I have to tell you? I'm coming with you. You won't need any of those other guys you just talked about." Sam glared secretly at him, but even she admitted to herself that he would have no way of knowing that Kar'yn was a female warrior as capable as any man.

Jack's glare, on the other hand, was as visibly galactic as Pete's. "And how many times do I have to tell _you_ that I don't want words like 'Ba'al' and 'ignorant backup' to even be part of the same sentence? Rya'c and Bra'tac know what they're doing."

"And so do I," Pete insisted in a voice that was as soft as a pin dropping and as hard as a Super Soldier's armor. "Besides, I'm the one who thought of the Jaffy armor thing. I should get to come along just for that."

But Jack's thunderous look remanded Pete's 'should' argument. "'Jaffy thing?'" he incredulously echoed, conveniently not recalling the many times he had chosen to 'forget' the proper name of something. "You don't even know what they're called! No way am I going to..."

"I'm an unknown!" Pete then pointed out in a loud voice. "I can waltz right in there and..."

"And _what?_" Jack scowled. "You're sure to do something stupid, and..."

"Just because I'm a cop and not on the glorious SG-1, I'm..."

"You'll give us away, that's what I was gonna say!" Jack raged. "SG-1 isn't glorious, we're just that good! I'd like to see how long a group of cops would last against..."

"Hey!" yelled Sam, breaking into the vocal fray. "This isn't some kind of competition! You two keep this up, and I'll go without either of you! So knock it off and come up with a plan A!"

"That is most advisable, O'Neill," Thor solemnly reminded at that propitious moment.

Jack's argument wasn't derailed in the least. "What good does it do to come up with a plan A, M, or Z if _he's_ along to ruin it the first chance he gets?"

Pete was as angry as Jack. "What makes you so sure that I'm going to ruin anything?"

"Hey!" Sam yelled a second time. "If I have to stop you two from arguing one more time, Thor and I will leave you alone on a deserted planet without a Stargate and save Earth ourselves! Now, I'm warning you..!" Silence met her threat. "Good," she noted when neither man spoke. "Plan A... Sir?"

Pete immediately lamented, "Why does he..?"

"You're getting awfully close to that deserted planet!" Sam cried, at the end of her patience. "Now, Plan A..." she began once Pete had subsided. "We use Jaffa armor to look like we belong there, and infiltrate the cloning facility so we can blow it up - easy. But how do we do that blowing up? And how do we not get killed in the process? And how..?"

"One thing at a time," Jack groused. "Ok. We get Jaffa armor from Teal'c at the Free Jaffa."

Sam instantly negated, "I heard months ago that Teal'c is with the Free Jaffa. But he might not be with the Free Jaffa anymore. If not, then what?"

Jack sighed - why did she always have to be so practical? "I guess we cross that bridge when we come to it."

Pete acted shocked at the vagueness of that plan. At the detective's sour expression, Jack added, "Even if T. isn't with the Free Jaffa, there has to be someone there that we know." He glared at the others in turn. "We can get help from them if we have to."

"Fine," Carter tersely said. "Then what?"

Jack gave a dismissive shrug. "We go to Cimmeria and kick some butt."

Carter sighed as Pete much more openly snorted in derision. "That's a plan?" he scorned.

Jack considered, then turned to Thor. "You got some C4 when you raided the SGC, right?"

Thor blinked. "I have procured your usual weapons, yes."

Jack gestured towards Thor. "Well then." When his comment was met with more skepticism than approval, added, "Look, you guys wanted a plan A..."

"What about a Plan B?" Pete goaded.

Jack groaned softly to himself. They always wanted more... "Plan B... let's just make that up as we have to." Pete was barely able to bite back his growl, but one look at a threatening Sam was enough to make him swallow his commentary. He seemed happy to make comments about SG-1 instead. "Honestly, us officers always have a Plan C, at least. How your team has remained alive this long is a miracle."

"Hey," Jack said. "Staying alive is what we do best. Don't mess with the overwhelming awesomeness."

"'Awesome' my ass," Pete muttered, making Sam think, not for the first time, that Pete and Jack were more alike than either would probably care to admit.

But Jack had heard Pete's comment, and snarkily said, "Just watch our six, and we'll watch yours." His gaze slid to take in Pete's derriere. "Not bad, but Carter's is better."

Fifteen minutes later, Jack again glanced over at Carter as she continued to pensively lean against the inside of the ship. She'd insisted that she needed a few moments alone to think through all that had come to light in the last hour, and Jack could tell just from the look in her eyes that she was definitely contemplating more than just her new leg. The worried glances she kept throwing his way, then throwing Shanahan's way, were beginning to completely unnerve him.

She didn't say a word - she didn't have to. She wanted him to take the Detective with him as more backup than just her - he could tell. She must still be concerned about how well her new leg was going to work out on this mission - and it still wasn't a definite that the team he eventually cobbled together for Thor would have any more than him and a sort of working her. He didn't mind admitting to himself that her anxious glances were already starting to wear down his 'no cops on any mission of mine!' resistance.

Jack sighed in resignation and regret - the military officer in him was forcing himself to concede that she had a point - going up against Ba'al was never a good idea in any way he stretched his imagination, and having a Carter who's mobility was not completely reliable wasn't how he'd prefer to go about Thor's Ba'al-breaking. Daniel was a no-go - and Teal'c wasn't yet a definite member of this team. They might not even be able to find Teal'c. He might have to at least consider taking Shanahan along as a team member... though just the thought nearly killed him. He didn't think he would tell anybody that he was thinking this way just yet. The idea of Shanahan, a member of what was basically SG-1 - sooooo not wanting to go there!

At the same time, he understood that he might not have a choice.

It was official - _life sucked!_

"Thanks for the disguise, Teal'c," Jack gruffly said two hours later. Now that things had been decided upon, they happened quickly, and the first thing they had done was locate Teal'c - at Jack's insistence.

And it turned out that locating Teal'c was definitely the right thing to do. Contemplating his new armor, Jack commented, "We'll be practically invisible in these get-ups."

"Told ya, didn't I?" Pete sang as he examined the various parts of his new armor.

Jack let the headpiece he was looking at fall to his side as he scowled. "If there's anything I hate, it's an idiot who has the nerve to say 'I told you so.'"

"That's Detective Idiot to you," Pete replied.

Teal'c merely eyed the two combatants, finally resting his gaze on his former team leader.

"Yes," she said, predicting Teal'c's question. "They're always like this."

Teal'c nodded. "My condolences, SamanthaCarter."

In the end, it was easier to take Shanahan along than not to take him, for the simple reason that his constant gloating attitude made him seem so Goa'uld-like that they could potentially use him as a Goa'uld and use him as a distraction if nothing else. The idea that he could also be useful exactly as he was, as a simple team member, was something that Jack refused to contemplate. If someone like Pete managed to worm his way onto SG-1, what was his world coming to?

Jack sent a last surreptitious glance towards Carter and her eyes and felt immediately better - capitulation had never felt so good!

"It sure was nice of you, Bra'tac, to loan us a ship like this," Jack said an hour later, glancing around the empty teltac's innards one more time.

Sam acted before Bra'tac could respond by ripping the Asgard communication stone away from Jack and said into it, "Thor, get your..." She abruptly stopped, as if reminding herself to make her attempt sound more polite. She softened her voice and rephrased her query. "I mean, Thor, if it's convenient for you, I would very much like to confer with you about a possible weapons addition to our borrowed ship."

The tone change must have worked, for enthralled with Carter even more than normal now that she was partially Asgard, Thor beamed down in an immediate flash of white light and spoke as if he couldn't respond to her fast enough. "Colonel Carter, I am at your service."

Jack rolled his eyes, wondering if there was room in the Sam Carter fan club for flirtatious aliens.

Sam got right to the point. "As you know, teltacs don't have weapons. Since you can't be seen to be helping us by firing on any enemies, and as we can't fire ourselves, but need to take Bra'tac's ship in order to help your ship stay hidden..."

"And such a nice ship this teltac is, too," Jack added for good measure with a glance at a very amused Jaffa master.

Sam ignored Jack to continue to Thor, "It would be a nice gesture from the Asgard to the Free Jaffa for you to retrofit this ship with some weapons. Aside from that, I won't let the General be forced into a mess with Ba'al with a ship that can't fire on anything. What if we run into resistance?"

Bra'tac instantly assured, "Such retrofitting will not be nec..."

Sam quelled him with a look.

"However..." Bra'tac went on with a careful glance at Sam, then turned to Thor, "It would be much appreciated."

"It will take some time to do this retrofitting, as you call it," Thor reported, his bulbous eyes centered on Carter, basically ignoring Bra'tac. "And even if I reassign my best scientists to this task, this teltac may only fire successfully once or twice."

"Once or twice is better than what we have now. Take all the time you need," Sam magnanimously invited.

Thor added, "We will work at this retrofitting while you are 'out of the picture' in Ba'al's facility."

_That's out of the way_ Jack thought to himself, but only leaned in closer to Bra'tac in order to whisperingly refer to Thor's recent dismissing of the Jaffa Master, "The Sam Carter fan club has just gone intergalactic - oh, and welcome to the fan club's rejects - I'll meet you at the elevator."

It was obvious that Bra'tac didn't wholly understand what Jack meant by his words, particularly the reference to an elevator, but gamely said, "Well met, O'Neill." His harrumph resounded loudly in the empty teltac.

Jack glanced again out the front window as hyperspace streaked by. "I don't know what we would do without you or your ship," he added, trying to again vocalize his gratitude. He supposed that without this ship, he and Teal'c and Carter and Shanahan would be swimming to Cimmeria. Though Thor would be in orbit of Cimmeria during this mission in order to help out if things went too far South, neither the humans or the aliens wanted anyone to know that the Asgard were involved in this cloning destruction. So Thor planned to lay low while he could, hence the need for Jack and Company to deal with the Free Jaffa.

The fact that Jack sounded more like he was going to his own funeral while showing his heartfelt-but-often-unexpressed gratitude toned down the 'gratitude' part of his last statement quite a bit. He still thought to say to the Jaffa Master, "We owe you one."

Bra'tac, however, had known Jack for many years, and wasn't alarmed at his dire tone. "It means that the Jaffa Council decided to lend a hand in saving Earth from Ba'al's most recent attempt to take control of your planet, nothing more. We do not wish any payment other than Earth's salvation and continued friendship."

Bra'tac may know what was behind Jack's dire tone, but that didn't mean he refused to let Jack squirm a bit, so he went on, "This teltac was stolen from the System Lord Cronus, who enjoyed random acts of sabotage... but even it's cloaking device is still operational." His glance at Jack was just as telling as his words were not. "The Council requests only that it be returned in similar working order."

"Ah... point taken."

One hour later, Jack was bent on checking how Carter was doing with her modifications of the teltac's engines - she insisted that she knew how to increase engine energy output by at least 10 percent now that they were on their way. However, he paused just outside the engine room when he heard voices issuing into the open corridor.

"Are those what I think they are?" Pete hesitantly asked Carter.

Jack peeked into the engine room and could see Carter crouching beside an opened engine crystal tray, Shanahan warily eyeing the crystals.

Carter barely registered the cop's intrusive talk as she concentrated on reading one of her energy doohickeys. "I don't know - what do you think they are?"

Pete went on, clearly unaware that he was interrupting her work. "Those things look like crystals from a chandelier, only they're... colored!" he ended in a horrified tone.

Carter glanced at the crystals, and experimentally switched three of them, then read her doohickey again. "These crystals are of Goa'uld design, and theirs are different colors, so of course these are different colors, too, as this is a former Goa'uld ship. How else would I be able to tell them apart if they were all clear, for example?"

Pete openly balked. "You mean they all do different things? Like fly the ship? And you can tell what they're doing?"

Sighing at this second interruption, Carter laid her doohickey into her lap. "Yes, Pete, they're flying the ship. If I took them all out right now, the engines would shut down, we would de-cloak, and the ship would stop dead in space."

"_Really?_" Pete's tone was incredulous. "Those little glass thingies are doing everything?"

Carter's second sigh held an even more obvious sound of her growing irritation. "Yes, Pete."

"And you know how to... what are you doing?" His voice turned from incredulous to alarmed. "There's nothing wrong with them, is there?"

Carter gave him a long-suffering glare. "No, there's nothing wrong. I'm just tweaking them into increasing their efficiency." And she went back to studying the doohickey in her lap again.

Pete still wasn't mollified by her assurances. "You're sure we won't... I don't know... get stranded?"

Carter's huff was now a lot less patient as she dropped her doohickey to her lap once more to openly glare at him. "Look Pete, this is what I do." She gestured towards the crystal tray as well as the engine core behind it. "These crystals may be from the Goa'uld on a ship that was stolen from the Goa'uld, but they're no smarter than you or me." She nodded her head in an emphatic way. "I've got a handle on this - we're fine." She picked up her doohickey and went back to work.

"But..."

Carter threw her doohickey into her lap. "But nothing!" she grunted, obviously out of patience at this point. "Okay, I'm _sorry_ about the things I said to you when I was in the nursing home, and the things I said _about_ you... they were somewhat harsh," she conceded. "And that bit about you wanting to just show me off to your friends was perhaps untrue... and I apologize for the way I've always seemed so angry with you lately... like, for months. But you've been particularly high handed with me for ages, and even though I'm sorry for treating you so badly, some of it was deserved." She gave him a pointed look. "You always said that you wanted a girlfriend who was a superhero... Well, now I'm supering. Let me do it!"

_You tell him, Carter!_ Jack silently cheered.

Pete immediately insisted to Sam, "I never just kept you around to show you off."

"You could have fooled me," Carter acerbically claimed.

Pete looked genuinely hurt. "You were always more to me than some trophy, and you know it!"

She sent him a scathing look. "Then why did you immediately whisk me off to that stupid home like you were ashamed of a girl with only one leg? You didn't have to hide me away, you know."

"I wasn't hiding you!" Pete contended. "That's where Dr. Stubs was, and I thought that he was your best chance at getting better, so that's where I put you - the closest place to him!"

"Then how come I only ever saw him once a week?" Carter shot back. "How come that's as much as I saw _you_?"

"I told you," Pete growled impatiently. "I thought you were making all that stuff up about the Stargate, that you had PTSD, and being near Dr. Stubs would..."

"Pete, working with the Stargate is... _was_ my job. I told you that. If you chose not to believe me, then that's your problem." Carter returned to monitoring the crystals, dismissing him from her attention.

"But you weren't making any progress!" Pete protested. "And I love you, you know I do, but if you had shown just a bit of..."

"Let me ask you one thing," Carter interrupted him. "If you claim that you love Samantha Carter so much, then why the hell did you just stick her in some dumb nursing home without even asking her first if that was what she wanted?" Her eyes were hard as titanium. "You don't treat someone you love like a dog who has pooped on the carpet! I might have been shell-shocked after I Gated back to Earth, but I was still able to have opinions! You treated me as if my opinions don't even count! You stuck me in that home, and within a week I was bored out of my skull - and you acted like you didn't care!" She glared at him with eyes that were nothing but ice chips. "If I didn't make any progress, that's because there was no one there to talk to, no lab to do experiments in, no nothing to keep me from going stark raving mad except staring out the window and sitting in the rec room!"

"I care!" Pete emphatically said. "I cared from day one!"

Carter shot daggers at Pete with her eyes. "You refused to listen to me until I refused to listen to you! I only ever told you the truth, and you repaid me by doing _that_!" Carter snorted. "That isn't love! That's control! And no way am I letting you control _me_, not anymore! If you don't like it, get over it!" She glared one last glare, then returned her attention to her doohickey.

Pete stood utterly still for a moment, stunned, as if he hadn't even contemplated any of that before now. He gazed at Carter as she continued to recalibrate the crystals, doing things to them that most people would never even think of doing. He obviously didn't even understand what she was doing. This was a different Samantha Carter than he'd known for the past eighteen months. This was soldier Sam, scientist Sam, kick-butt Carter who would definitely die of boredom in the one place he'd thought would be best for her.

"I'm sorry," he softly said. "I didn't know."

"Yes, you did," she retorted in an unforgiving voice.

Pete shrugged. "Okay, so I didn't understand," he amended, throwing a gesture at their surroundings of engine parts and alien ship. "It's not like you ever told me about all this stuff, even after we were married," he pointed out. "It's 'classified.'"

His fingers were still quoting the air when she negated, "You knew. You just didn't believe. That's not my fault - stop acting like it is." She gestured between the two of them, scowling. "And stop saying that we're married. We were _never_ married. You married a clone, not the real me." Her voice turned as icy as her eyes. "And don't do the air quote thing - that move is Jack's. You just look stupid imitating him."

That rankled Pete's sensibilities! "Oh, believe me - I'm not imitating the likes of _him_!"

Carter gave a feral grin. "You couldn't even if you wanted to."

Pete gave a disgusted huff. "You said it yourself - this isn't some kind of competition!"

"Of course it isn't," she said, staring at her readouts again. "He thought I'd completely betrayed him, and I don't blame him. Finding him again is like getting the chance to fix what Ba'al messed up. Don't get in my way."

This was again a more biting Carter than Jack had previously experienced. Yet, if anybody had an excuse to be biting, it was her. She'd been hacked at, exploited, used, tortured, abused, then left to rot in a boring-as-sin nursing home. If she was perpetually ticked off, she had reason to be.

Pete wisely chose to follow her advice and backed out of the engine room. Once out, he whirled, and would have stomped away, but Jack blocked his path.

Jack acknowledged that he should be the professional military commander at this juncture and act as if he knew nothing about what had just transpired between Pete and Carter. But he couldn't resist grinning at Pete as he passed by on his way to the engine room, clanking in the Jaffa military garb he already wore.

Pete scowled, ignoring the noise. "What are you grinning at?"

Jack flashed finger quotes at him. "It's classified." He sauntered passed Pete as if he had no cares in the world. Before he knew it, he was regarding Carter sitting silently beside the crystal tray again, contemplating them with an unreadable expression. He hated to interrupt her once more, but Bra'tac wanted an update on the state of the engines, and he'd promised to get one for him. "Carter, how you coming on those engine modifications?"

She looked as if she wanted to say how she definitely preferred this second interruption to her first, but all she said was, "Fine, Sir."

Jack smiled as her lips quirked - the way she said 'Fine, Sir' sent pleasant prickles across his butt under the Jaffa chain mail. "Good. I figure it's the least we can do to boost the teltac's engines in return for Bra'tac lending us a ship on such short notice." Besides, if everything went according to plan on this mission, Ba'al's cloning place would be dealt with, Ba'al himself would be pushing up daisies, Earth would be saved, peace would be restored to the galaxy, and the Free Jaffa would be left with an assured ally in the Tau'ri, plus a ship that had been Asgard magicked, and was nothing less than a Carter special.

Carter trained her attention on the crystals in the tray, yet was still able to roll her eyes in an endearingly insubordinate way. He'd noticed that ever since his and her talk on the Asgard ship, she had been more relaxed around him, as if she viewed herself as more his equal since they were both now retired from the Air Force. There was no rank or regulations keeping them at arm's length anymore, and her familiarity was a direct result of that. He may not have finalized anything so solid as a relationship with her, but this familiarity was promising.

Now she grabbed another tool from the array of tools laid out before her, and, without even looking at him, grinned affectionately. "Almost finished... Sir." The last was added with the smallest amount of teasing in her tone. She was playfully laughing at him even while she was outwardly being as respectful as expected while on a mission.

Jack squatted beside her, his eyes riveted not on the crystals, but on her, his heart pounding a sense of excitement and anticipation through his body. "Look on this as our gift to Bra'tac," he suggested, but silently said much more with his eyes.

Carter glanced up at him, and in that one second, was clearly lost in his eyes, his look mirrored in her gaze. "Give me another 15 minutes," she said, her voice rough, and self-consciously cleared her throat. "We should be good to push the engines by then." Translation: she would be happy to then give her attention to him rather than to the engines, but she would be good - for as long as this mission lasted. After the mission, when they were alone, all bets were off.

"We're already at 100%," Jack noted breathlessly. Her glittering gaze slowly blazed through even the corners of his insides.

Carter quirked an eyebrow, and Jack felt as if she'd caressed his unmentionables. "Let's make it another 15." Her gaze was smoldering by now.

Somehow, Jack managed to find the will to say, "I'm sure the Jaffa Council will appreciate it." Translation: he already appreciated this, even if the Jaffa Council remained forever oblivious.

Invisible energy arced between them. Neither had touched the other, but the connection linking the two was as strong as titanium. Carter dreamily grinned at him again, her eyes now gleaming pools of unsuppressed emotion as his pulse erratically thundered in his ears. "I think this calls for specialized equipment - give me your zat."

He felt like he was giving her his life as he handed over the weapon. No, he corrected that thought: he was giving her his heart... his _entire_ heart.

She cautiously held the zat in her hand, careful with something so delicate, the tips of her fingers brushing lightly against its metal skin.

It was as if she had directly caressed his cheek - the blood burned in his veins.

Carefully she activated his zat and fired the weapon once, blue energy fully encompassing the crystals. A whirring sound heralded the increasing power that coursed through the engines, and the ship leapt forward.

Sam's gaze never wavered from Jack's, even when the increased engine noise told them that her hunch about using the zat had been correct. She deactivated the zat and held it out for Jack to take back.

Instead of taking it, Jack gently folded her fingers around the silver weapon. "Keep it," he softly instructed. "I trust you... completely."

Carter cradled the weapon, cherishing what he had truly given her. "I'll keep it safe."

His heart in his eyes, he whispered, "I know you will."

And then he was gone, leaving Carter alone with his zat... and so much more.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"'Everybody remember where we parked!'" Jack sang out once they had landed on Cimmeria. He adjusted his staff weapon, content at last in his own life in spite of the tentative nature of the mission that lay ahead of him. Behind him, he heard Carter also singing softly under her breath. The sound barely penetrated the metal of the Jaffa head piece she wore.

Jack smiled, his heart momentarily soaring under his concealing armor. If Shanahan had been humworthy all those months ago, it was thoroughly gratifying to know that he was songworthy. It increased his own happiness tenfold.

They had planned to land the teltac on the planet several clicks from their destination, and keep it cloaked for the duration of the mission in case they needed a place to hide. After all, none of them were really sure what Ba'al's sensor equipment was capable of. He might find and attack the teltac as well as Thor's ship while orbiting Cimmeria, even if they were both cloaked. His cloning capabilities alone had skyrocketed in the last year, and they didn't want to assume that his sensor equipment hadn't improved as well. Better to be overly cautious than dead.

Bra'tac remained behind to man the smaller teltac while the four clanked to the cloning facility, each also adjusting the awkward staff weapon they carried as they went. Pete groaned at Jack's quoted commentary about remembering where the ship was parked, but Jack thought that only Carter would laugh at such a line. He turned to smile warmly at her in spite of the fact that she couldn't see his gesture, but only hear the smile in his voice. "I've always wanted to say that!"

Carter once again rolled her eyes, knowing that Jack would never see the slightly mocking gesture behind the Jaffa headpieces she, Jack, and Teal'c wore to hide their features - Pete was more simply dressed in the more typical Jaffa armor.

Sam may be retired from the Air Force, and Jack may claim that he was, too, but old habits were too ingrained in her for her to be openly insubordinate. Yet she also knew that Jack was quoting bad lines from ancient movies to hide his nervousness of the task ahead. As usual, what he didn't say said a lot.

Bra'tac made certain that the cloaked teltac's door closed behind the four armored people, then turned his attention to monitoring the sensors. "The facility is two clicks from this position," he said into the communication link that connected the ship to the human's Jaffa helmets. "Proceed in that direction. I will stay behind to 'watch your six.'"

"Thanks. Over," Jack said softly into the inside of his helmet. With any luck, they would be in and out in an hour, needing no watching at all. The anonymity of the uniforms claimed that they were sure _not_ to need backup... but it was good to know that Bra'tac was available, nonetheless.

Despite the state of their preparedness, their first problem materialized the minute they stepped onto the harder stone corridor of the cloning facility. Three members of his team walked through the corridors looking like any Jaffa, and the fourth awkwardly smacked the ground and clanked far too loudly, even for a Jaffa. "Stop clanking so loud!" Jack ordered the ever annoying Shanahan. "And for God's sake, keep your head down!"

Pete's reply had as much bite to it as Jack's voice. "I would have a down if you had given me one of those head things to wear!" His silver skullcap glinted in the dull light as he waved his hand over his head and petulantly said, "I could at least look like you guys!"

Jack yanked off his headgear so that he'd be more sure that Shanahan heard every word from him as he said, "How many times do I have to tell you - you don't need..!"

"Yeah, yeah," Pete interrupted. "I've heard it all before." His shrug made his cloak swing. "At least I can see, I guess."

"You can see us getting captured if you don't shut up!" Jack's acerbic tones were accompanied by his moving into the next room which turned out to be the heart of the facility. Teal'c and Carter also removed their headgear so that they could stare unimpeded.

Sleeping Carter clones met their eyes, and weird lights on mysterious panels blinked at them. It was clear that Ba'al had not quite trusted his clone of the real Sam Carter to do all that he had wanted it to do - he must have made these multiple copies of Carter in case he'd need them on short notice. As it was, he hadn't needed more than the first Sam clone. That one clone had done enough damage for all its clone sisters put together. Jack was just glad that the real Sam Carter was clothed in concealing armor at the moment, and not her SGC uniform, as these clones all were. He didn't want to mix them up now - that would be a disaster!

But on closer inspection, there was something _off_ in all of the clones if one only looked hard enough. The first clone he stared at in the Sam Carter lineup was actually her second clone, as Jack well knew. The first clone of her had been sent back to the SGC with her team mates. He himself had met 'her' at the bottom of the Stargate ramp where it had asked him the question that had started this whole thing. Jack idly recalled that moment, noting that the typical flood of anger and shocked emotion was lacking now. The real Carter had washed that all away.

This second clone had hair just a shade too dark to be _his_ Carter. The third clone was wearing BDUs that were too light, and had, of all things, freckles. Ba'al had obviously wanted his Sam1 clone to get rid of Jack O'Neill, one of the few men who might recognize it for not being the real Sam Carter. The two other men who would recognize an impostor of Samantha Carter had not had enough military pull for their colleagues to simply take their comments at face value. It was an excellent plan, and had almost worked. The fact that they had figured out the snake's plan was nothing short of a miracle.

Shaking the memories out of his head, Jack walked stoutly passed the Carters without a second look, then began energetically planting his stash of C4 in locations that would do the most damage when the compound exploded. The others did the same. "Quietly!" Jack cautioned when he felt that Teal'c was growing too enthusiastic in his explosive placements. Teal'c became as quiet as it was possible for such a big man, and the placements continued.

At last, they were finished. Jack moved swiftly towards a far console to plant the last of his C4 on its underside. Pete was now so far behind them that it looked like Jack was only talking to Sam and Teal'c as he said, "If we're not careful, Ba'al will come down here and say..."

"Very good, O'Neill!" came the resonating tones of a jovial Goa'uld as Ba'al suddenly cut Jack off. It was so unusual to hear a Goa'uld who was actually happy that the tones immediately sent shivers of dread down Jack's spine. Ba'al stepped from behind the shadowed throne sitting on one side of the room. He had obviously been waiting for them. "You came just as I foretold!"

The thought of Ba'al being able to foretell so much as a rain storm was enough to make Jack give a silent guffaw.

Just as Jack had that stray thought about Ba'al's foreshadowing abilities, several well hidden Jaffa came streaming from around corners and behind strange looking consoles to surround him and Carter and Teal'c, making Jack think that maybe he was wrong about those foretelling abilities. As one, the Jaffa quickly pointed their staff weapons at their prisoners, a sea of glinting Jaffa skullcaps and armor. What had happened to Shanahan by that point was anybody's guess.

Jack and Ba'al eyed each other, one cautiously glancing at the Jaffa surrounding him and his friends, frantically searching for a way out of this mess. Yet even as he grew more and more frantic, he was able to mock, "Still trying to pull off that God thing, huh?" Multitasking had always been one of his fortes.

Contrarily, the System Lord looked positively gleeful at the sight of the team. Ignoring Jack completely, Ba'al went straight to Carter to caress her cheek with one of his oily fingers. "Still brash to the point of stupidity," he said of Jack's comment, though staring directly into Carter's blue eyes. "I would be disappointed with anything else."

"I'm honored you like it so much," Jack said with more bravado in his voice than he felt.

Ba'al gave a sick grin and just fingered Carter's armor as if he were mentally undressing her. "Take it off," he said softly, his voice sliding through the room. Then he turned to regard the two men. "All of you."

Jack winced. "But we wouldn't want you to see..."

His bravado was rewarded with an activated staff weapon singing in his face. "Ok," Jack said, his hands slowly going up. "We'll take it off."

"We are in constant need of additional armor," Ba'al conversationally informed them all. "It's so pleasant of you to supply us with replacements."

The three quickly unburdened themselves of their armor, but if Ba'al had been hoping to be left with three naked prisoners, he was disappointed. All three of them wore a black tank top and matching black shorts. Even their feet were covered by short, tight black shoe-like slippers.

Ba'al's gaze slid to Carter again. "Your clothing is ugly... but functional. Pity." He sighed, as if the fact that the three were wearing anything at all was truly an inconvenience. "I was so looking forward to seeing this one in her... natural form."

Before any of them could even react to such an insidious comment, the butt end of staff weapons predictably slammed into the backs of their knees, sending them crashing to the floor. The pain that shot up Jack's legs upon landing was significant, but there was no way he would give Ba'al the satisfaction of seeing him wince.

Ba'al sensed Jack's discomfort anyway: his chuckles brought out goosebumps on Jack's arms. "Brash... and stupid," the Goa'uld said, his teeth gleaming as he smiled. He had rerouted his attention from Sam to Jack at the non-wince episode, and now his gaze turned to Teal'c. "Ah... Shol'va." His smile disappeared as Teal'c growled at him. "You shall be the first to die as your clone infiltrates the _Free_..." his sneer was unmistakable, "... Jaffa." His chuckle again sounded his low opinion on the subject. "My First Prime will like nothing more than to wipe out that _insignificant_ rebellion."

Teal'c didn't even deign to say something snotty in Goa'uld to the System Lord. He simply snarled.

Ba'al only gave a maddening laugh, showing how he was hardly frightened at the intimidating gesture from Teal'c, particularly as three strong Jaffa held down the struggling captive. "It has teeth," he said in oily tones. "How nice." His amused expression vanished. "I will rip them out through your ears," he promised.

His gaze landed once again on Carter's two legs. Or more to the point, on the fact that Carter even had two legs to look at. "I see that Tau'ri medicine is more advanced than I had first suspected." His greasy tones coiled around her like the snake that he was as he leaned in close. "How unfortunate for you that you were recaptured." His gaze slipped aside to take in Jack, giving the impression that her capture wasn't so unfortunate for her as it was going to be for him.

Carter's gaze followed Ba'al's, and hardened when it landed on Jack. "Go to hell," she injudiciously retorted.

Ba'al laughed a second time, and roughly grabbed Carter's chin in his hand. Her struggles were efficiently and quickly subdued by the Jaffa on each side of her as they grabbed hanks of her hair and pulled her head back so she had no choice but to look at Ba'al. His dark almost good looks made her grimace even more as he seemed to be carefully considering her comment. "I've often heard of this 'Hell.' I know it to be a horrifying place." He leaned in even closer until he could say right in her ear, "We'll see it together."

Jack knew what that meant - torture, and a lot of it. He specifically knew what 'torture a la Ba'al' meant, and instantly began a mighty wriggle, hoping to at least get the demonic alien's attention off Carter and onto him, pronto. But his efforts were stilled by the abrupt smack of a staff weapon to his jaw. At least the weapon wasn't activated this time.

Despite Jack's wriggling, Ba'al's attention hadn't wavered an iota. He looked at Carter's two working legs in morbid interest. "I admit to being curious as to your new leg... how well does it work?"

"Well enough to escape from you!" Carter spat, still injudicious, perhaps, but Jack was glad to see the old determined sparkle in her eyes. As long as he saw that special Carter-glow about her again, he didn't care how she taunted old Balsey-boy.

Instead of enraging Ba'al, Carter's resistant statement made him chuckle again, a sound that definitely made Jack writhe just to hear it. A well placed zat blast from a nearby Jaffa put an untimely end to Jack's wiggling as he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Pity," Ba'al said, studying Jack, now lying prone on the floor. "He might have proven entertaining." He straightened. "Throw them all in with the others prior to..." He malevolently grinned again. "... his cloning!" His sick smile only grew when he concentrated on Sam. "She can watch."

Sam glared defiantly at Ba'al. Ba'al was unperturbed.

The Jaffa leader simply answered, "Yes, my Lord," then he and his counterparts grabbed Jack under his arms and Sam by her hair and Teal'c by whatever they could touch on the struggling man and hauled them in the opposite direction from the way they'd entered.

Carter and Teal'c were shoved ruthlessly into the same midsized cell that had housed the many SGC prisoners captured over the last month, Jack unceremoniously dumped at their feet just rior to the door slamming shut and locking. He finally jerked awake 30 minutes later, groaning. Hands connected to arms clothed in the green of the typical SGC field uniform helped him to a sitting position as he struggled to say to Carter, "Should have come up with a plan B."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Pete skulked near the doorway leading to the center of the cloning facility. While he was careful to remain in the shadows cast by some kind of alien storage crates and computer-type consoles, he was fully able to see everything transpiring in the cloning room, from the thoughtful placement of the group's C4 to the capture of his three other teammates to when the Jaffy people eventually led Sam, Teal'c, and the unconscious O'Neill away. He was momentarily surprised at how roughly the Jaffy soldiers treated his three counterparts, especially cringing whenever Sam was manhandled by one or more of the warriors, but was pleased to note the silver skullcaps, drapey chainmail and cloaks that the Goa'uld soldiers were wearing perfectly matched his own. His concealing armor would make him fit right in with the despicable group. Even the funny symbol that O'Neill had insisted he wear on his forehead wouldn't mark him as any different than the typical Jaffy guy. As disguises go, it was quite thorough.

Disguised or not, the group's C4 could not be completely concealed. Pete witnessed a gleeful Ball as his Jaffy warriors confiscated every last bit of the carefully placed C4. Now, even if O'Neill and company somehow managed to escape, they had lost their means of destroying the cloning facility.

Pete growled quietly, crouching in his concealing shadows to watch the scene unfold, waves of hot and cold alternately boiling or freezing his blood. Whatever was going on - and Pete understood that he didn't know the history that was clearly involved with Ball and SG-1 (particularly with O'Neill) - he could still appreciate the danger of the scene that was unfolding in front of his eyes.

This Ball fella was obviously not the typical criminal whom Pete was used to dealing with. He was too oily, too sure of himself. He had the upper hand in these proceedings, knew it, and wasn't the least afraid to use every bit of his influence to bring down what was obviously a hated enemy. It was easy to see that Pete would have to be careful to avoid this man if he was to take advantage of his current freedom and save the world.

That phrase now sounded so glib, and he momentarily realized where O'Neill's sardonic cynicism had come from when Pete asked to join the mission. Pete didn't know anything, not really. He may understand about Earth criminals, but his knowledge didn't extend to these galactic badguys. He couldn't see how he was going to pull any last minute miracles out of his butt and save them all - he just didn't know enough. He was alone in an alien environment that he barely understood, had no hope of a sudden appearance of the calvary coming to save his hide, and above all, didn't know what he could do that would change any of this crazy situation so that it ended in his favor. He felt the first stirrings of panic twirling in his guts.

He let the panic take control for one wild minute.

Then with an iron grip on his emotions, he stopped his panic before it could play havoc with his brain. He didn't want to become completely useless and fulfill the poor image that O'Neill carried of him - he refused to give O'Neill the satisfaction of being right about him. He may be in over his head in this situation full of aliens and clones and other planets, but he was _not_ going to get captured. He was a better detective than that. Though things between him and SG-1 hadn't started out in the best light, he was being given this second chance to redeem himself, for whatever reason, and he intended to see this through. No one ever accused Pete Shanahan of missing such a glorious opportunity when it fell so temptingly right in his lap.

But how best to take advantage of that opportunity? Pete watched the Jaffy guys as they roughed up Sam and the others, saw O'Neill go down, then heard one of the soldier fellas say, 'Yes my Lord' to that Ball guy before dragging their captives out of the room. He had seen psychopaths be kinder to their captives than the Jaffy guys were to SG-1. But he was able to note that the direction they were going in led away from his position. The cells - or whatever was being used for the detention of prisoners on this alien planet - was obviously somewhere in the opposite direction from his position. All he would have to do would be to sneak his way down that corridor to find them, get them out, and finally find out what was going on with this mess, and what he was supposed to do about it. It would be a relief to have someone who understood the ins and outs of the Jaffy world to tell him what to do.

But at the same time, there was that urge to save the world by himself accosting him again. He was a smart cop, not some rookie in training. _Come on, Shanahan. You've been in worse situations than this and come out smelling like a rose. So... just do the same thing here._

Resolve filling him now, Pete waited until the cloning room was empty, then cautiously peaked around the crates he'd taken refuge behind to assess the situation. Was it clear? Alright for him to creep out yet? He was casing both this room and the next when footsteps reached his ears. He ducked back behind the crate just in time as another group of warriors dressed in shiny armor just like his stalked passed him. Their footsteps sounded loud in the relative quiet of this antechamber. They marched in columns of two abreast, holding those long stick weapon things at their sides, ready to use them at a moments' notice, but relaxed now that there was no perceivable threat. Without giving himself time to think about what he was doing, Pete darted out and joined the ranks of the strutting soldiers, making sure he was in the very back, and mimicking everything he saw them do. He held his weapon stick at a jaunty angle, set his face to show no emotion except a look of intimidation, and did his best to appear as if he belonged exactly where he was.

It worked. Not a soul turned to glance at him. They simply followed the man who seemed to be their designated leader, looking neither left nor right, simply marching in the direction the others had been dragged in. Maybe he was going to be led to the very place where SG-1 was incarcerated, and then he wouldn't have to do any sneaking after all. Wow - this disguise was working better than he'd ever hoped!

In fact, the disguise worked so well that Pete was beginning to think that it was working too well. It couldn't be this easy to infiltrate such a powerful enemy stronghold, could it? Nah! That Ball guy had strutted around as if he owned the place, like he held all the cards, had mucho power at his disposal. Surely such a guy would predict something so simple as the infiltration of his own army, and take precautions? A guy didn't get to be called 'Lord' without showing some amount of caution, right?

But the soldiers never wavered from their mysterious destination. It was almost as if they were robots, unable to think beyond their programming. They'd obviously been ordered to do something, and their attentions never wavered from those orders. It was like they were so sure of their power base that an infiltration was purely inconceivable to them. It was like they were... arrogant.

And so was that Ball guy. He'd acted so sure of himself, as if he was already aware of all the players in this drama, and could even predict the outcome. Which meant he had something up his sleeve, something big, something bad, something that made him think he had everybody right where he wanted them. What Pete had to do was discover what that was before Ball was able to use it on them.

Easy.

But he still didn't know enough of what was going on to stop anything. Pete didn't even have time to wonder what that something that Ball had up his voluminous sleeve was before his group of soldiers was standing before some kind of crude cell. What appeared to be another group of men and women - _humans_ - dressed in the semi-familiar garb of Earth military BDUs stood impatiently on the other side of the cell bars. Rough stone walls took up three sides of this cell, then the bars made the fourth. This jail was of crude design, but wasn't any less effective because of it. The head Jaffy guy unlocked the cell door and swung it aside.

Instantly, three of the warriors pointed their weapons at the group being held captive. "We have come for O'Neill," the leader guy spat.

"So?" came the familiar cocky voice. "Why should I care?"

The warrior man pushed several people aside with his weapon like they weren't trained military personnel in their own right, and regarded O'Neill with disdain. "You'll care... or we kill one of your friends for every minute you waste of my time."

Surprisingly, O'Neill laughed, as if he knew something the Jaffy guy didn't. "No you won't," he intoned, confident. "You need us in perfect condition for cloning - Ba'al will break your neck if you decide to play nasty with us. So..." and he leaned nonchalantly against the bars, stubbornly crossing his arms. "Eat me."

With no expression on his face, the Jaffy man yelled, "Jaffa, cree!" In the next instant, one of the Jaffy men in front had drawn some kind of compact weapon from the side of his arm, activated it, and in the next second a beam of blue energy engulfed one of the humans standing near O'Neill. The man remained standing, so he hadn't been attacked by something like a blaster that shot holes in its victim. He simply writhed for a second, jerking back and forth, a look of genuine surprise frozen on his face before he fell to the stone floor, still jerking. After another moment, the man lay still.

Pete was astonished, and gazed down at a similar weapon attached to his own arm - so _that_ was what that thing did!

"Stun us all," O'Neill drawled next, as if what had been done to the man didn't affect him in the least. "I'm sure that Ba'al won't care - as long as you..."

But Pete had the feeling that this drama wasn't finished. That Jaffy leader guy was just looking way too smug. As if to prove Pete correct, he pulled out his own version of the energy weapon and casually fired at the man on the floor. This second arc of blue took him over, but he didn't twitch this time, just lay still and let the beam do its thing. When it had disappeared, the man lay there unmoving.

The look on O'Neill's face was now more akin to horrified agony rather than the defiance from before. Pete surmised that the man on the floor must be someone O'Neill knew to make such a seasoned military man look so horrified. But O'Neill had said it himself - the Jaffy guy had stunned the man. It wasn't like he had killed him!

"I think you'll come with us," Leader Guy growled knowingly. "If you don't, I'll just kill another one of you... _humans_." The way he said it gave Pete the idea that he rated humans somewhere below the slime on his boot.

But what was this? He'd _killed_ the man? Pete looked again at the weapon on his arm, and almost flinched, but stopped the gesture at the last moment. He was one of those evil Jaffa, and had to remember that.

Pete still didn't understand how Leader Guy had done it, but that second shot from the weapon thing had certainly gotten O'Neill's attention. "Alright," he barked, looking sick and instantly agreeable. "I'm coming. Just don't kill anybody else."

Leader Guy smirked. "Lord Ba'al wants you cloned."

O'Neill came slowly forward, hands slightly upraised to show his abruptly benign intentions. Leader Guy roughly grabbed him the second he was in range and thrust him towards his fellow army friends. Then he gestured at Sam and curtly ordered, "You too."

"I've already..." Sam started to protest, but the second that argument left her lips, Leader Guy simply turned his blue energy weapon thingy on another human in the cell and fired. The victim writhed for a moment before falling with a thud to the floor. Leader Guy looked meaningfully at this second man, but Sam immediately thrust her hands into the air and walked towards the door. "Alright, alright, I'll come! Just don't kill..!" Several hands yanked her mercilessly from the cell in spite of what she'd said, cutting off the rest of her words.

"I would kill both of you now," Leader Guy spat, and his glare encompassed the human male lying on the floor before his gaze flicked back to Sam. "But Lord Ba'al wants you to watch." And his gaze grew even more malevolent. "Gods get what they want."

Uh... Gods? These Jaffy guys thought the Ball guy was a... God?

Leader Guy malevolently went on, "Yet Lord Ba'al didn't say what shape you had to be in when you were watching." And his hungry gaze shifted to visibly stroke up and down Sam's body.

His insolent look did what he'd intended. Sam clenched her teeth even harder, but quieted.

Leader Guy must not have been satisfied with her response for he grabbed her arm and yanked her nearly off her feet. She let out an _oof_ when two other soldier guys caught her. They quickly surrounded her, yanking her back the way they had come.

O'Neill immediately yelled, "Leave her...!" But a fist slamming into his stomach cut the order off in mid word.

"What is this!" O'Neill wheezed when he could talk again. "I thought cloning meant we had to stay unharmed - even bruises clone!"

Leader Guy's smile that wasn't a smile now turned on the SGC General. "Bruises fixed by a sarcophagus don't count!" And he punched O'Neill again, then dragged him unmercifully down the corridor back the way they had come.

Sarcophagus - what was that?

As expected, no one explained. Confused, Pete at least remembered to once more stay in the rear of the group as he instinctively tagged along, clanking all the way.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

As the Jaffy army guys clanked along the corridor to the cloning room, Pete mused as to what 'Cree!' could possibly mean, all the while keeping his eyes peeled for any unexpected escape opportunities.

Escape however, while a simple exercise for him in his Jaffy anonymity, was proving much harder to come by for any of SG-1. Both O'Neill and Sam were constantly surrounded by those Jaffy guards (_Jaffa guards,_ Pete reminded himself of what O'Neill had previously called them). The humans were being monitored so closely that escape was out of the question, even if they received some unexpected help from their seemingly invisible human-turned-Jaffy (_Jaffa_) friend. As the-shit-hitting-the-fan situations went, this had to be one of the tightest spots that SG-1 had gotten themselves into.

What Pete didn't know was just how awful SG-1's situations typically ran. So even though this wasn't the worst or the scariest situation Jack or Sam had ever lived through, according to Pete things were dire indeed, and he was again wishing for some backup from Bra'tac if nothing else. But the five hour time limit that O'Neill had given to them all before Bra'tac was to begin worrying as to their well-being wasn't even half over yet. If something was going to be done to help SG-1 out of their current predicament, Pete was on his own.

However, useful thoughts, such as trying to come up with some form of miraculous escape plan, were severely lacking at the moment, and anxiety was creeping in at an alarming rate. To stop himself from going insane with worry, Pete let his mind dwell on his 'Cree!' thoughts instead of anything more useful right now.

The clanks of Jaffa footsteps receded from his conscience as the word 'Cree' went round and round in his mind. Perhaps it meant 'Hey you!' Pete considered as they left the cell area behind. Or maybe it just meant 'Yo guys, heads up!' He recalled how that Jaffa guy had shot that human man with his silver weapon in answer to that leader fella shouting nothing but 'Cree!' So maybe it meant 'Fire at will?' Or more likely, something more short and direct: 'Kill them!'

But then, that first Jaffa guy who'd shot that human man hadn't killed him - that leader guy had. So maybe it didn't mean 'Kill them!' but 'Shoot one of them!' But if so, then how did that initial shooting Jaffa know that he was the designated dude to do the shooting in the first place? Had there been some kind of hidden signal or number count thingy to indicate that Leader Guy meant him specifically to do the shooting?

More importantly, had there been some kind of signal that might later give him away if he missed it? _Think, Shanahan!_ But try as he might, Pete couldn't recall seeing any kind of signal or sign that had indicated that particular Jaffa as the prize winner in the 'Shoot first, question the perp later' club.

Or maybe... it might have been because that shooting-Jaffa-guy was the guy out in front? Was that it? Did 'Cree!' simply mean 'Cree!' Kind of the way that the German word 'Achtung!' simply meant 'Attention!'just the way it sounded? Perhaps that was it.

Whatever the meaning, Pete's 'Cree!' thoughts had distracted him so well that they had reached their destination before he even realized it. He had forgotten all about his worries and looking for possible escape routes. Though he doubted that any possible breakout options had ever been forthcoming, a wave of disdain swept over him - he was fulfilling O'Neill's poor opinion of him without consciously trying to do so!

But that Ball guy was back in the cloning room again, and things proceeded at a much more rapid pace. Sam was thrown so hard against a far wall that even in his rear position, Pete heard her head hit the stones behind her. Shackles seemed to fly around her wrists and ankles, and one wrapped around her throat, imprisoning her in seconds. Then, to his horror, Leader Guy instantly stuck some kind of long stick into her side, and before Pete's eyes, Sam lit up like a demonic version of the Grinch's Christmas Tree. She screamed and writhed from where she hung, unable to stop her torture, and equally as unable to get away from it. That stick thing was obviously some kind of energy weapon, though hopefully not some form of a brand. Pete glanced warily at the gold emblem tattooed onto Leader Guy's forehead, recognizing it as a similar one to the golden tattoo that Teal'c wore. He must have undergone the same type of torture that Sam was now to be left with that brand thingy on his forehead. Pete fervently hoped that these Jaffa fellas didn't have the same fate in mind for Sam. All the while, he quickly considered and rejected a million ways in which to help her, or even to save her. But with each idea came a million more ideas where he could fail and get captured, thus ending all hopes of somehow rescuing SG-1 from this Ball guy.

After several moments of Sam screaming her head off, O'Neill straining against his captors in order to maybe push the Jaffa dudes away from Sam, Leader Guy abruptly pulled the stick away from her. Sam seemed to wilt in relief against her restraints while Leader Guy looked sickeningly pleased at her reaction to this obviously favored form of torture. The rest of the Jaffa soldiers stood around with bored looks on their faces, but didn't do anything, either to intervene on Sam's behalf, or to help in the torture. Only Leader Guy and Ball seemed to have taken any pleasure from the preceding so far.

Yet, just as Pete wanted to blink, he saw Sam sneak a look of amused defiance in O'Neill's direction.

That's when Pete _got it_: she was acting! She had to be in intense pain, but still had enough wits about her to act more defeated than she really was! None of the other Jaffa were paying her any attention at the moment except Pete, and if he had blinked like he wanted to, he would have missed her look.

O'Neill noticed it, however, for all the good it did him. The next second, he too was slammed against a wall opposite Sam, shackled tighter than tight, with activated staff weapons shoved in his face, just for good measure. That Ball fella was doing his oily chuckle thing, grabbing at O'Neill's cheeks with strong looking fingers. Then Sam did her acting thing again, and O'Neill rallied enough energy to yank his head out of Ball's grasp.

Ball did not look amused at that! O'Neill looked as if he didn't care what Ball thought. If anything, that made Ball angrier. Pete almost rolled his eyes in disgust, but then remembered that he was a Jaffa right now, and Jaffa didn't care what a stupid human would or wouldn't do. But he still felt extremely irritated at O'Neill. For a guy who had successfully lived through so many years of this, O'Neill sure wasn't behaving very responsibly. In fact, what he was doing, while heroic in a sick sort of way, was kind of childish. If O'Neill just wouldn't piss that Ball guy off so much, then it might not eventually be lights out for all of them. But at this rate, it would be lights out for anybody who was unlucky enough to come within a mile of the General. It was almost like the best result O'Neill could hope for in this situation was death, so he was doing his utmost to get that for him and his team.

Ball's second chuckle put an end to any kind of hopes on O'Neill's part of sudden death setting him free. His resigned expression gave the idea that O'Neill knew better, anyway.

And O'Neill was right, it turned out. "Do not bother wishing for death," Ball softly advised with an assessing look at O'Neill. "You know better, don't you?"

Pete surmised that whatever history O'Neill and Ball shared must have been death free, as well as pretty unpleasant in its own right. Ball seemed to be taking great pleasure out of taunting his victim of the moment. "Cloning the mighty Jack O'Neill... and with a clone loyal to me," he now said in a voice that softly echoed throughout the room. Pete had no trouble hearing what he said - maybe he had some kind of microphone hidden somewhere in that robe he wore so his voice could have that booming sound? His voice had been deceptively gentle - as if he had something truly heinous in mind, and was so amused by it that he could afford to be nice.

In fact, Ball seemed nice now as he pleasantly continued, "Not one of your best hours, was it?"

"It's not one I would like to revisit, no," O'Neill agreed with him, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

"Revisit..." Ball thoughtfully added. He strolled away, still thinking on that word, and at last regarded O'Neill where the man basically hung on his wall, at his mercy. "Yes," he hissed, now far less than pleasant. "We will 'revisit' many things together."

Ball didn't elaborate on his promise, nor did any ideas other than what Pete had already come up with in order to give that booming quality to Ball's voice make much more sense just now. But then, nothing else in this messy clonking situation made sense, either. Pete just concentrated on not doing anything that might single him out as he watched.

Ball laughed again, a sound that told the seasoned cop in Pete that something veeeeery unpleasant was about to happen. His instincts were proven correct when the button that Ball pushed next caused a tube to reach out of a machine standing beside O'Neill, then a long needle to come out of it, pointing straight at the captive.

"Uh," O'Neill started. "I'm not exactly one for needles..." The needle mercilessly pierced the skin on his arm. Even from Pete's position, the needle looked painfully large. "Ugh!"

There was a whirring sound, and the needle retreated, then dropped something into a tiny receptacle that Pete hadn't seen, and the whirring turned into a clanking that sounded alarmingly like a troop of Jaffa soldiers. The following silence was even more ominous.

Ball smiled, which didn't make Pete feel any better. "Now we wait a few hours for the sample to grow into a clone so good that it will fool anybody. Meanwhile, let us prepare for memory download."

Pete almost winced in confusion. What was 'memory download?' He knew only one thing: if this Ball guy wanted it, it was sure to be nasty.

O'Neill clearly agreed. "If it's all the same to you, me and Carter will just go back to our cozy cell while we do that waiting."

The patient smile slid off Ball's face. "I think not," he said, then gestured at Leader Guy, who stepped forward and thrust something straight onto O'Neill's temple. O'Neill grimaced and jerked away, not that it did any good. When Leader Guy stepped back, some kind of round circle thing was firmly attached to O'Neill's temple.

Ball gave a soft, deceptive smile. "This recall device so conveniently donated by a Tok'ra formerly in my service nicely integrates with this Ancient cloning machine that recently fell into my hands. It easily gives me what I'm looking for."

Pete didn't know who the Tok'ra were, or what being Ancient meant, besides being really old, obviously, but he got the impression perfectly that no one wanted to be in O'Neill's shoes right now.

O'Neill just couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Look away, old Balsey-boy, but I promise you, you ain't gonna find any... Uh!" A loud grunt fixed the attention of even the most bored Jaffa as a soldier again punched him in the stomach. The captive would have once more doubled over, but his restraints kept him upright. Instead, he seemed to momentarily wilt in place while being forced to stand the entire time.

Ball's smile was back as he again grabbed onto O'Neill's cheeks, ignoring the prisoner while intently studying the thingy attached to his temple. "Ah. The recall device is working as expected." His smile grew larger as O'Neill grimaced more. In a voice so soft that it was frightening, the alien dude muttered, "What is your worst memory, I wonder?" And again he laughed, though no one, Pete included, suspected for one minute that he thought anything was funny.

And right in front of Pete's eyes, larger than life, a rectangular box formed in midair. It was filled with so many images at first, it was hard to make out any one picture of anything specific. Then it all resolved into what had to be one of O'Neill's more unpopular memories.

The scene showed some kind of green vegetation shrouding what looked like a revolutionary camp. There were tents, several ditches, many human soldiers on guard duty, and many more soldiers milling around, some cooking a meal, some cleaning weapons, some talking, some smoking. After a moment of this peaceful scene, a military commando dude came out of a more permanent dwelling in the middle of the tents, carrying a young boy on his shoulders. Both were smiling, laughing, joking with the men in the camp, teasing all of them... until the memory abruptly turned horrifying as two pops split through the serenity of the camp. A second later, both man and boy dropped to the ground like stones, blood gushing from forehead wounds that hadn't been there a second ago. Chaos ensued as the soldier men started rushing around, searching the area or frantically trying to save the victims who were both obviously dead. Pete could see their 'death stare' even from his position way at the back of the room.

The view changed as the camp faded to be replaced by the person who'd just killed both the man and the boy - O'Neill, Pete suspected - though when he saw how young the hands looked of the sniper who'd done the shooting, he was a much younger O'Neill. Then the picture on the memory screen changed again as the killer (O'Neill) slipped into a pre-made hole in the ground that was little more than a dent buried under dense vegetation. There O'Neill lay quietly while the soldiers frantically searched for someone they had no hope of finding.

The memory faded out, replaced by one very similar. Again came the fake serenity of a peaceful scene at some kind of an encampment, only this time there was some guy shaving in a small piece of mirror... until the pop sounded again and the mirror burst apart in a mess of brains and bloody glass shards.

The memory changed a third time - and there was a third killing. Then a fourth. A fifth. More... and more... and more... all the same, all horrifying, and all O'Neill's.

As each grisly scene replayed before them for Ball's amusement, O'Neill wilted just a fraction further into his restraints. It was obvious that these memories were something that he would rather forget, and certainly wasn't enjoying reliving now. Which would explain Ball's growing pleasure. He grew cockier and cockier as O'Neill's head hung lower and lower as each memory played out.

Suddenly Leader Guy thrust his stick into Sam's side again, and she glowed a second time as her yell echoed in the chamber. "Watch!" he gruffly ordered, then withdrew the pain stick. Sam gasped for air as the memories continued.

There was some kind of prison... gray walls, cell doors, random screams, a huge Middle Easterner with a scary looking weapon guarding what was definitely thoroughly disheveled prisoners. The empty room had some kind of reflective piece stuck on the wall, and O'Neill showed in its wavy lines, standing just as disheveled. Other Middle Eastern guards were milling around, smoking, putting out their cigarettes on the prisoner's skin and laughing, until one guard yanked a prisoner out of the line and threw him on the floor just prior to... Oh geez, was that... a rape going on?

Pete rapidly blinked his eyes, pretending to have something in them to shut out this latest memory so that at least one Jaffa didn't witness what had to be the emotional low point in O'Neill's colorful military career.

This latest memory, however, made that Ball guy's laugh echo sickly throughout the room. "We will most certainly be keeping these," he said, his voice once again so quiet that it was hard to believe that such a gently spoken man had just done what he'd done. O'Neill was forced to watch the memories displayed on the screen like some bizarre memory garage sale due to the cuff that attached his neck to the wall behind him, just like the one on Sam's neck. But he'd squeezed his eyes tightly shut in the only act of defiance left to him - in this way, he refused to relive those memories of his, no matter what Ball wanted him to do. Yet, even with his eyes clamped tightly shut and a pained expression twisting his face, he was aware of what was going on - he had to be.

But what was to O'Neill's detriment was obviously to the Ball guy's liking. He could hardly contain his glee as more killing replaced the prison scene. "All done in the name of your holier-than-thou military," Ball commented in his voice of deceptive velvet. "Killing - supposedly to keep you and yours safe." (How he had found that out was beyond Pete.) Ball gave O'Neill a thoroughly satisfied look. "So much killing - and you're very good at it, O'Neill, much better than I would have thought possible with your crude weapons and primitive tactics."

Pete gave a start. _Crude weapons?_ Those guns that O'Neill had used had been state of the art as far as weapons went. They were the 'I Ching' of weaponry! Pete ought to know - he was a cop, a detective, a keeper of the peace, a goto guy for safety concerns, an intervener of the dicey and dangerous, a man hunter when it was called for, a...

A killer, if he had to be, and he'd had to be plenty often in the past. That made him... Pete couldn't help it - he cringed. Fortunately, no one saw him. But he couldn't completely keep his face from showing exactly what he thought: the profession he had chosen often made him just like O'Neill.

With a vengeance, Pete turned his wandering attention back to the screen in order to hopefully forget his last thought.

He was just in time to see the picture of O'Neill's fingers expertly handling a sidearm, loading the magazine, slipping the magazine into the weapon, to hear the magazine clicking into place...

The sound of an unidentified female voice - higher, softer, less technobabbly than Sam's - interrupted what was obviously a home ritual. Memory O'Neill focused on a woman holding a baby, but didn't do anything more than cock the weapon he held in his hands, making certain it chambered correctly before removing the bullet from the chamber and flicking the safety on.

This was followed by a huff of air filled with a disapproving female grunt. "How many times do I have to tell you to lock that thing up? Nothing's going to happen."

Then came a version of O'Neill's voice that was younger than Pete had ever heard, "I have too many enemies to be so dumb as to not be prepared for the worst around my wife and child."

Child? Pete knew about O'Neill's ex-wife - Sam had previously told him her CO was divorced. But she hadn't said a thing about a child. Had she not known?

The memory wife continued in a voice of scorning disbelief, "Those enemies are going to attack us in our bedroom?"

O'Neill sighed, as if this very subject had already been talked to death. "If anything happens to you or Charlie because I was a trusting idiot who felt safe in his own home, then I..."

"What can possibly happen in our own home?" the female asked.

The scene on the memory screen flipped for just the briefest second to a view of the brains spattering the mirror. "Oh," came memory O'Neill's deceptively mild voice. "The biggest threats are the ones that come where they shouldn't." Then he decisively shut the gun in the drawer of his bedside table... an unlocked drawer.

The scene changed again to that of another, bigger gun being cleaned by a person who was ostensibly O'Neill, sitting again on a double bed, loading the magazine, slipping it home, starting to firmly close the same drawer.

And the same female voice, less patient this time, demanded, "Jack! I said to get that thing out of here!"

The Jack in the memory whipped around to face the woman angrily regarding him to tenaciously reply, "And I said that I can't do that! If anything ever happens to... I won't be able to live with myself - you know that!"

"So this is your answer? More killing?" She choppily gestured at the gun. "Something will happen alright, and it will be something you'll regret!"

The mild voice was back as 'Jack' turned around to regard the weapon in the drawer. "I'll regret doing nothing," he countered, and slid the drawer the rest of the way home.

The memory changed again. This time it was a child's hand that opened the drawer to reverently pull out the semiautomatic pistol hidden there. "Don't tell your mom about this," O'Neill cautioned in a whisper coming from somewhere nearby. "You know how she feels about guns."

"Sure," came a male whisper from the boy standing beside him.

The O'Neill voice continued, "And you should never play with a gun, Charlie, especially not when you're alone. If I catch you at it, I'll have to yell at you for it."

"But you deal with them all the time," the young voice protested. "And you do it when you're alone."

"I'm trained to use guns, even when I'm alone," O'Neill argued. "You're not."

"I will be someday," the young voice assured. "I'll be the best marksman in the Air Force!"

"Your mom won't like that," cautioned O'Neill. "Don't get your hopes up just to be thrown down again."

"But you use guns," protested the boy. "Doesn't mom like _you_?"

The silence that followed this question said a lot.

Present O'Neill squinched his eyes shut tighter yet, but he couldn't stop what was showing on the very public screen.

"I said watch!" Leader Guy suddenly erupted to again thrust that stick into Sam's side. She yelled as she glowed. Leader Guy seemed to leave the stick pressed to her side for longer than before, and she leaned against her restraints, panting, the second he released her from the painful routine. She seemed to shrink as she tried to recover, and Leader Guy's attention returned to the screen in some kind of gross addiction to see what happened next.

Sam didn't have to watch, as if she already knew what happened next, and O'Neill had squeezed his eyes shut tighter than tight again, only opening them a slit to make sure that Sam was okay after her stint with the stick thingy. That was when she smiled.

Just a little smile, so tiny that Pete wasn't sure he'd seen what he'd seen. It wasn't even a proper smile, more like a lifting of one side of her lips. But it was definitely a gesture, and definitely aimed at O'Neill.

Wow! She was acting again! Or not precisely acting as getting O'Neill's attention in the only way she could. She had manipulated the scene with Leader Guy so that he would thrust his stick into her side and she would yell bloody murder, just to get O'Neill's attention. She must have known that he would look to make sure she was alright afterwards, and that had been her intention all along.

Pete wondered at her initiative. But one more look at the determination in Sam's eyes made him rethink this situation again. Perhaps she had known about the child all along, and even knew what was going to happen next on the memory screen, and her manipulations were her attempts to distract O'Neill from a memory that she knew was going to be particularly unpleasant for him?

The more Pete thought about what he was seeing, the more he was sure he was correct. Jack and Sam were both gazing at each other rather than the memory screen, and completely missed what transpired next: the sound of a gun shot, the boy from before being pulled into arms, blood everywhere, driving to a hospital so fast that the trip was just as dangerous as the situation, the beeps of a heart monitor, the sound of the female saying, "OHMYGOD!" as O'Neill's random thoughts of 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry' played over and over again like some kind of sick background litany, the sound of the female keening, a funeral, a boy's room filled with pictures, a ball glove...

Funny - a ball glove for a guy named Ball.

Pete almost missed all of this as he tried to keep his eyes on both the screen as well as Sam and O'Neill. They were still staring at each other, oblivious to the screen and what was going on.

They were oblivious, that is, until Leader Guy thumped Sam so hard on the side of her head that blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth. She gently probed the spot with the tip of her tongue. "This one refuses to comply!" he grunted. "Aided by this one!" And he crossed to O'Neill to maliciously rip the small disc from his temple, making him yell in pain, and leaving a bloody mark behind.

The memory screen instantly disappeared as the small circle disconnected. The Ball guy sauntered forward, walking through the vanishing view screen, studying O'Neill like he was a bug he'd just discovered. "No matter," he softly said, putting a hand on Leader Guy's shoulder to discourage him from thrusting his pain stick into the captive's side.

A moment went by as Ball searched O'Neill's eyes, scarier than any moment so far because of its expectant silence. It was so quiet, Pete fancied he could hear O'Neill's raspy breathing from all the way across the room. It was clear just from his breathing that this memory session had been far from pleasant for him - O'Neill sounded like he had been forced to swim a marathon against the current of a mighty river, and had almost drowned. Pete snuck a look in Sam's direction to see how she was faring, but she was still tiredly exploring her new wound, hanging limply from her shackles now, the picture of defeat.

But Ball didn't buy it this time. His eyes swung from O'Neill to Sam, from Sam back to O'Neill, back to Sam, before his gaze rested again on his male prisoner's eyes.

At last a wheeze came from the Ball guy. "He defies me." He swung his amazed gaze to take in Sam hanging seemingly limply from her restraints, then back to O'Neill, who was so _not_ staring at Sam that his eyes were again squeezed tightly shut. But Ball wasn't any more fooled than Pete had been. "They both do. This one has just had his worst memories displayed for all to see." He said it like he understood just how mentally painful this latest torture session had been. "And yet he dares to defy me."

He turned to stare at Sam. "And she..." His gaze swung back as he thoughtfully considered O'Neill again.

"My Lord," said Leader Guy, his voice deferential now. "It's because of her. She..."

"Yes." Ball sounded as mild as a warm Spring day. "Yes - her." Momentarily lost in thought once more, he continued to study O'Neill, then Sam, then O'Neill. "So, I was right all along - she's the one. Just as I foretold."

"Look," O'Neill said, interrupting the yo-yo effect of Ball's swinging gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about. How can she do anything to me when she's all the way over..?"

"Defiance... of me." Ball now sounded even more surprised than before, as if he couldn't fathom that anyone would dare defy him, especially a female. He once more eyed Sam, who was now warily eyeing him in return. O'Neill had just begun to struggle for an impossible release when Ball turned completely away from him to more fully regard Sam. "She's the one," he again intoned, sure of himself once more. "This ugly thing." He crossed closer to Sam, his hands clasped behind his back in a mocking pose of academic thoughtfulness.

Conversely, Sam was even more defiant the more he spoke. "Do what you want," she leaned forward and said. "Kill me." And just like that her gaze slid from Ball to that O'Neill guy. Her eyes actually blazed when she stared at him. She glowed. She was a sun gone nova. Her eyes became impossibly deeper, bigger, warmer as she stared. She had eyes for no one but O'Neill.

The warm intensity of her gaze made Pete feel as if were trespassing on something he oughtn't to see. So this was how it was. Sam... and O'Neill. The reason for either of them even existing was in their gazes. This was something more than just emotions, more than just love, more even than a galactic connection. This was magic.

An arrow of jealousy shot through Pete, and he cringed again, but couldn't quite put a stop to what he was thinking as he continued to watch. Sam and O'Neill... They obviously had, and had had for a long time, something he had always instinctively sought after, but knew that he wouldn't find, not for him, and not in Sam. He'd been fooling himself all this time to think any differently. It was an uncomfortable, but enlightening moment for the cop.

At last, with a sigh that resonated with everything that was good in the Universe, Sam turned away from O'Neill and with an effort focused again on that Ball guy. With eyes still full of O'Neill, she whispered to the alien, "You can kill me, or him, or us... But no matter what you do, you can't kill _it_."

For a heartbeat, Sam and Ball did nothing but stare at each other, the one honestly defiant, the other frighteningly thoughtful. The impasse broke when a malicious hissing sound escaped Ball's lips, and his silky voice coiled around the room. "Of course I can do many things to 'it.'" And he leaned in so close to Sam that for a moment their breath mingled together. Ball's following laugh came out like a satisfied snort, as if nothing pleased him more than her defiance of him.

Pete supposed that this Ball guy's pleasure was real - he certainly looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself as he once more ran a seductive finger down Sam's cheek. O'Neill predictably began to thrash against his restraints, but Sam refused to move an iota. She just kept gazing in satisfaction of her own at Ball, practically daring him with her gaze to committing further atrocities.

"I must consider," Ball said, his gaze never straying from Sam. "But I assure you that my thoughts will have vastly unpleasant consequences for you."

"Promise?" Sam goaded.

Ball resisted her taunting to smile his maniacal smile that pledged even more. "Oh yes."

Ball gave a jerk of his head. With that, Jaffa yanked the two prisoners from the walls, thrusting them both down the corridor to return to their cell.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The Jaffa shoved Jack and Sam back into their cell with no regard for who already occupied the space. Hurtling forward, Jack landed on top of Reynolds, who was stretched out near the cell door, intent on taking a snooze, and Sam elbowed a waiting Daniel in the nose before falling to the floor in a heap of arms, legs, and the red cheeks of severe embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Daniel!" Sam exclaimed the minute the Jaffa had left, their stoic faces displaying no sorrow whatsoever for their actions. "I didn't mean to hit you." She sent an acerbic glare at the retreating backs of the Jaffa for good measure.

Daniel sheepishly rubbed his nose as he extricated himself from his former leader's limbs. "That's alright, Sam - you didn't exactly have any control over where you went. I'm just glad you didn't break my nose. Besides," he muttered, "I should know better than to stand so close to the door by now."

Jack climbed off Reynolds, equally as apologetic as his former second, but instead of acting casually, he opted for a more sarcastic approach. "You live to serve under me, don't you, Colonel?"

Reynolds couldn't help but laugh at such an outlandish response to what really hadn't been a choice for the General. "You can count on me, Sir," he quipped with a grunt as Jack rolled completely away and he was able to sit up. Now that he was in a more appropriate position, he assessed them both. "You guys alright? Did he clone you? You look fine, but that could be misleading. Maybe Ba'al just did the torture thing?"

"He did both," Jack told him with a groan as he stretched out with his back to the wall, surprised that he was so sore, considering that he hadn't been roughed up too enthusiastically. Yet the buried memories that the session had revived still played like a dreadful movie in his brain, causing soreness in every extremity. He took a shuddering breath in order to contain the mental pain caused by those images, then hoped that no one had noticed. One thing he knew he couldn't handle right now was anyone's solicitude.

Sensitive to any of his mood indications, Sam's gaze slid from Daniel to Jack. She wanted to ask him if he was alright the minute she heard his sigh, but already knew that he most definitely was not alright. His memories were clearly still haunting him, and in spite of his tightly clenched eyes, that session with Ba'al had to have released several things he would rather have stayed buried.

And speaking of their recent Ba'al session, the remnants of that pain stick still sizzled her nerve endings. The occasional muscle spasm reminded her of her own torture quickly enough, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to lean next to Jack against the wall and go to sleep. "Think I'll join you," was all she said as she curled up beside Jack with her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Daniel was too familiar with Goa'uld torture methods not to recognize the results of a pain stick when he saw them. "Sleep will help you the most, Sam."

"I know."

"We'll wake you if anything interesting happens."

But Sam was already asleep.

It wasn't Daniel who woke them what seemed like ten minutes later. "Get up, Tau'ri!" the First Prime yelled at Jack. He gleefully kicked him hard on his leg for good measure.

Glaring, Jack knew this soldier couldn't help his harassment of the prisoners; he was really no different than any Jaffa they had encountered.

And right on cue, the First Prime again ordered, "Get up, Tau'ri scum!" He fingered his pain stick with a joy bordering on obscene. "Or I will encourage you."

The Jaffa kicked him again, then leered at Carter. Jack struggled to make his muscles bend and retract in a body that protested any movement. When he didn't proceed fast enough for the Jaffa, he hauled him to his feet and mercilessly threw him at his cohorts also in the cell. "Lord Ba'al wants a word with you!"

Jack did his best to force his eyes open so that he could keep track of Carter. "Mustn't keep the old boy waiting," he slurred at the same time, then tripped over his feet when the First Prime did his nasty Jaffa best to march him and Sam away.

"Move!" the man yelled, and that much noise in Jack's ear was incentive enough. The Jaffa herded the two humans toward the clone room.

Jack tried to think why he and Carter had to return to the clone room so soon, but besides having to face another round of torture just for the fun of it, he couldn't think of anything. Unless... enough time had passed for old Ba'al to realize the reality of the situation; thanks to the Asgard, Jack O'Neill couldn't be cloned. Jack hoped beyond hope that enough time hadn't yet passed.

However, the minute he entered the cloning chamber and no clone greeted him, he knew that he was wrong.

It was the same as before. He and Carter were cuffed to opposite walls, able to see the other, but not touch. A moment later, Ba'al sauntered into the room, his thoughtful pose thoroughly faked. He looked like he actually cared what became of his two human captives, but Jack knew better. "Quit the show, Ba'al," he said, making sure to sound bored. The last vestiges of sleep vanished as he spoke. "We know you're faking it."

But Ba'al refused to respond to Jack's goading. Instead, he stood directly in front of Jack and stared at him, his pose growing even more thoughtful than it already was.

Jack lowered his brows as he stared back. "You look like you care, but I know you don't give a rat's ass about me any more than I do about you. So knock it off. You're freaking me out."

Ba'al ignored Jack's caustic words to continue his staring. In a great show of thinking, the System Lord rubbed his fingers on his chin.

At last, Ba'al gave a confounded sigh. "I admit that you puzzle me exceedingly, O'Neill."

Jack gave a sardonic grin. "I have that effect."

Ba'al did some more of his staring, peering at Jack from another angle. "I see no outward mechanism that would indicate such duplicity," he mused aloud.

Jack's brows rose, and he smirked as his old companion, sarcasm, came to the fore. "You're right - there's not a duplicitous bone in my body."

Ba'al ignored him, his thoughtfulness growing more concentrated as he continued to assess his captive. "No... it must be a part of him," he murmured to himself.

With a sense of foreboding, Jack felt the hair on his neck stand on end, but refused to look as if anything Ba'al said could bother him, playing dumb instead. "What's a part of me?"

Still, Ba'al mused on. "It must have been added at a later time, and by someone else - from what I hear, the Tau'ri do not have these kinds of capabilities."

"Oh," Jack muttered. "You know us Tau'ri - we're full of surprises."

Ba'al once again ignored the interruption to his studies. "It could be a part of his blood, such as a concentrated collection of naquedah."

Jack grimaced - thoughts of blood, his in particular, always set his teeth on edge. If it was the accepted belief that he had naquedah in his blood, then why not simply test him by making him activate some kind of Goa'uld device? Not fully understanding yet, he advised himself to remain silent. If Ba'al wanted to think that he had something in his blood, who was he to contradict him?

He hoped against hope that Ba'al wouldn't figure out that he did indeed have something inside him, something that interfered with the cloning process, though thinking that something was in his blood wasn't quite the right way go about figuring this out.

In order to distract the System Lord, Jack decided that playing dumb was again the way to go. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

It was a statement that made Ba'al give a short nod. Which made no sense - either he wanted to torture the information out of Jack, or this was all a waste of time.

"Look, this hanging around thing is..."

Movement from the First Prime cut Jack's glib statement short. The Jaffa abruptly slammed the heel of his palm into Carter's right shoulder.

The audible pop told those listening that he had just dislocated her shoulder.

Carter made no sound, but pain raced briefly across her face before she once again took control of her expression to show only extreme boredom.

"Hey!" Jack instantly protested, but the look of satisfaction in the First Prime's eyes told Jack that his yell had fallen on deaf ears.

"Let's start again, shall we?" Ba'al drawled, still sounding disinterested. "I have run my clone program three times, and three times I have been favored with a much younger version of you than I find helpful. Now, why is that?"

Not wanting to simply give him the information that the Asgard had futzed with his DNA, Jack simply snorted, "I already told you - I don't know."

A second Jaffa swung a metal pipe at Carter's left arm, instantly breaking it. The squeak Carter let out was subdued, but no less surprised.

"Hey! Stop it!" Jack uselessly yelled, knowing that it wouldn't do anything for him, but it might do something for Carter. So Jack yelled, though if he'd been unsure before, he now understood that this was indeed another torture session - mind torture for him, and physical torture for Carter. Ba'al knew that Jack wouldn't long be able to withstand someone hurting Samantha Carter. He'd tell Ba'al whatever he wanted to know before long. It was Ba'al at his diabolical best.

"Wrong answer," the System Lord conversationally said. "One more time - some kind of anti-cloning device - where and what is it?"

And once more, Jack played dumb. "I'm telling you, I have..."

The pipe swung to connect painfully hard with Carter's ribs. The crack and her resulting grunt carried all the way over to Jack.

Ba'al crossed to Jack's other side, adjusting his angle of study. "Is it part of your blood?"

All Jack could do at that was shrug his shoulders. "I..."

Speaking of blood, red swelled from Carter's mouth when the First Prime slammed his fist into it.

Jack's open distress was obvious now. He was close, so close.

As if Ba'al could smell capitulation, he nodded again, and the First Prime grinned as his fist met Carter's jaw for a second time.

Carter's head snapped to the side, but silence ensued. Her gaze swept across the room to drill into Jack's, and the smallest shake of her head told him to say nothing no matter what they did to her.

But Ba'al was relentless. "Or is it part of your bones?"

Following Carter's advice, Jack's silence was rewarded by another smack at Carter, this time at her right thigh. Jack didn't hear anything break, and hoped that she had incurred nothing more than a bruise this time.

Ba'al paced in front of Jack, hands clasped behind his back, his thoughtfulness again in full force. "Is it in your skin, perhaps?"

Jack couldn't help himself - he laughed. "Yeah, my skin sheds anti-cloning molecules." He looked at Ba'al head on for the first time. "Do you know how dumb that sounds?"

Carter's left leg suffered the same fate as her right, and in spite of a clear desire to muffle all sound, she couldn't quite restrain her resulting grunt.

Pride in just how much his former 2IC could handle burst in Jack. "Forget my blood - she not screaming enough for ya?"

Carter's left shoulder shattered.

"Stop it!" Jack next yelled, his voice ferocious.

"Then tell us what we want to know," Ba'al nonchalantly commanded.

Jack responded with a helpless, "I don't know what you want to know!"

Ba'al's poise crumbled. "Why is it that you cannot be cloned?"

"And I told you, I don't..!"

Another nod, another punch to Carter's ribs. She gasped at the pain, her breathing growing raspier by the minute.

"Look!" Jack desperately called out, "It has something to do with my DNA - I don't know what it is!"

Another punch to her dislocated shoulder - another grunt of pain.

Carter's cry tore at Jack. But still she was able to vigorously shake her head in his direction, her meaning clear - he could hear her 'Don't tell them, Sir!' echo in his head.

But Jack's desperation was mounting. "Something..." Jack was going to tell him how the Asgard thought he was too special to be cloned, but suddenly realized that mentioning the way the Asgard had meddled with his DNA would amount to saying that they had broken the Protected Planet's Treaty by interfering with one of Earth's inhabitant's natural progression. Even a meddling of an individual was enough to void the Treaty. It would be a Goa'uld free-for-all.

But all hope was not lost. Jack suddenly gave a wolfish grin and hoped against hope that Ba'al didn't know as much about the Tau'ri as he thought he did, specifically about the Tau'ri time line. "I don't know what she did, but good old Doc Fraiser did her thing again. I'd say that you can ask her, but - oh, yeah! Some System Lord's dumb Jaffa killed her!"

The pipe raised up to slam into Carter's broken arm a second time, but Jack didn't give the Jaffa time to assault her again before going on in as acerbic a voice as he could muster. "Clone me all you want - you'll never overcome her safeguards!"

Ba'al was shaking his head again. "But why you, and not all of SG-1?" His puzzlement glowed from his eyes - or maybe that was his symbiote - sometimes it was so hard to tell. "You forget - we have already successfully cloned Samantha Carter and Daniel Jackson - but you claim that only you are immune to cloning - why?"

Jack's smirk conveyed his challenge. "Common practice for Earth Generals."

"Selmak's host is an Earth General," Ba'al immediately protested. "Yet we've detected no tampering with his..."

"Ah, But neither Selmak nor Jacob is head of the SGC - I am!"

Carter's ankle gave a crunch as the pipe collided with it. Not surprisingly, Carter didn't make any sound at all this time, no yell, no grunt - unconsciousness had already claimed her. Her bonds were the only thing holding her up any longer.

"Cut her down!" Jack yelled, and struggled helplessly against his own bonds. "You're killing her!"

Ba'al gave a shrug of his own shoulders and politely informed, "It is you who is killing her. Tell me what I want to know, and I will be merciful."

Jack stopped his struggling long enough to say through his clenched teeth, "I told you, I don't know anything else!"

A fist gave her a kidney punch. Carter was so out of it by now that she hardly moved.

"Tell us!" Ba'al hollered in Jack's face.

"If I knew, I'd tell you!" Jack hollered back.

"Perhaps you need further incentive." Ba'al turned to address his Jaffa. "Prepare the table." He whirled back towards Jack, his cloak flying. "If you are so set on defying me, then you leave me no choice. This time we will make certain to take all of 'it' in our efforts to persuade you." His authoritative voice rang out in the room, "Throw O'Neill into the cell with the others. Her..." And Ball turned with a wicked gleam in his eyes to gaze almost seductively at Sam. "Take off both her legs and throw her in with him." His gaze took in O'Neill's growing horror with a supreme sense of satisfaction. "_He_ can watch her bleed to death, knowing there is nothing he can do to stop it. Perhaps then he will be more... forthcoming." His smile widened as he took in Jack, then Sam, and purred, "What you can't kill can still be destroyed."

The First Prime was already moving in anticipatory excitement. "Yes, my Lord." He bowed his head in a show of obedience, then signaled to his cohorts closest to O'Neill to haul him away. Jack struggled against his captors even as he knew it would ultimately do no good - he watched as Carter fell farther and farther behind.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The Jaffa tossed Jack through the cell door, slamming it shut before the prisoner had a chance to gather his muscles and launch a doomed attack against the alien warriors.

Jack gave the bars a solid thump with his fist, momentarily stymied. He couldn't help but to recall that last scene in the cloning chamber as his hands went over his face and despair consumed him. Why the hell did it have to be Carter? What about him? It wasn't like they could clone him anyway, right? Why not just clobber him for awhile if that's what gave them their jollies? It was his job.

Hell, it was his life. The System Lords could do what they wanted to him - he didn't mind. But to do it to one of his team - to Carter in particular...

If Ba'al wanted to do the one thing that would be sure to hurt Jack the most, even more than leaving him with the knowledge that he planned to eventually erase the love he felt for Carter from his clone's reality - if he ever succeeded in cloning him, that is - it was to let Jack listen to her suffering, then to be forced to watch her die, knowing that he couldn't do anything to help her. Ba'al knew what he was doing - he had to give him that.

Jack's despair was cut short as sympathetic hands pulled him back from the bars. "General, what's..?"

More voices interrupted Reynolds' inquiry.

"Did you..?"

"Is the Colonel..?"

"What happened?"

"How did you..?"

"Were you cloned again?"

"What's going on?"

Finally Teal'c's rumbling voice sliced effortlessly through the cacophony. "Where is SamanthaCarter?"

Jack felt a vise cleave his heart in two. "She... Ba'al..." His gaze landed on Daniel's form, and he had a vague second of noting again that Carter had been right as usual in claiming that Daniel had been cloned. That was why Daniel was even here. He should know by now that no matter how crazy Carter sounded, what she theorized was most always true. But right or not, he couldn't keep the despair and sorrow out of his voice as he choppily explained, "Ba'al tried to clone me - but couldn't. Then he - hurt Carter, and now he..." He couldn't do it, keep his voice emotionless, like he was giving a report at the SGC. How could this possibly be emotionless, anyway? Jack's horror grew as he finished, "He's ordered the Jaffa to cut off Carter's legs... to get me to tell about..." How not to mention the Asgard? "About the cloning thing," he settled on at last. "Then we can watch her... bleed to death."

"_What?!_" Daniel barked, momentarily so frightened by Jack's words that he ignored how silly and idiotic they truly sounded. Stunned and sick, he immediately turned to regard his fellow SGC coworkers. "We can't let that happen - we've got to get bandages... get things ready... in case... uh..." But at a loss, Daniel's voice trailed away as the situation truly asserted itself:

Even if Ba'al meant what he said and nastily cut off Carter's legs, even if she was still alive by the time the Jaffa brought her back to the cell, and even if, by some miracle, they managed to stop the bleeding and she was _still_ alive... they would remain locked in this dirty cell meant for far fewer people than was currently housed in it. The reality was that they couldn't get out - all twenty-six of them had tried, on numerous occasions. The lock was a relatively simple construction, easily picked... if one knew what one was doing... and one had the tools... which they most certainly didn't.

Daniel was letting his despair slowly take over his expression when the most unexpected thing suddenly happened. From the rear of the crowd, Major Jan Brody of SG-15 spoke up.

"If what General O'Neill says is true, or if it isn't, we can't take that chance," she barked, much like an Air Force General in her own right. "Let's get ready. L&D, girls - I've got tourniquets - you..." and she pointed at several female airmen converging on her position. "... and you, you, you, and you - bandages. Go!" And without further words, she and every other female in the group began removing their pants.

Such an unusual action of course left all the men - Jack, Teal'c, and Daniel included - ogling the frantic women in stunned disbelief. Brody was fiddling with the hidden bootlaces tied to her thighs as the others continued to mysteriously undress.

Finally, Daniel sluggishly asked, "Uh... what are you doing?"

Brody didn't pause in her self-appointed mission as she explained, "As the senior ranking medical officer on this mission, I outrank even General O'Neill for the duration of this medical emergency. As of this minute, I'm taking command of the mission." Abruptly she took in their amazed expressions that were trained on her all-but naked butt and barked, "I expect you all to be completely professional! No ogling, no teasing, no stupid comments - be airmen!" She now toed off her boots so that she could take off her outer pair of pants, revealing several pair of underwear. "General, we need intel! We don't even know where we are."

"Uh..." Despite what Major Brody had already said about ogling, Jack found himself staring, too stunned to go on.

Brody ripped the two laces she meant to use as tourniquets off her legs and handed them both to an unmoving male colleague. "Make yourself useful - hold these!" Without fanfare, she began to remove her many pairs of underwear as her fellow females also took off either their boots, pants, or underwear... to reveal even more underwear.

"You men!" Brody brusquely said as she continued to struggle. "Any of you wearing cotton briefs, take them off - cotton absorbs blood better than boxers. And if it helps to stop the Colonel dying - you won't mind freeballing it for a while. Now General..." Her attention had wavered for only a moment. "Fill us in - where are we, what's going on, what's Ba'al planning?"

But the men were still too stunned to do anything more than watch. Glancing up, Brody finally noticed the continuing stares of her male colleagues. "_What_? Haven't you guys ever seen a woman's naked legs before?" Her frustration gave way to anger, and she practically spat, "What did you think we did on all those girl's nights we had? Dish about all the cute guys on base? Come on! We bandied around ideas about how to carry supplies on a mission that would still help us even when our vests and weapons were taken." Finally managing to pull off several pair of underwear at once, she threw a wicked grin in the direction of her ogling colleagues, as if she'd decided that since they were staring in astonishment, she might as well _really_ astonish them. "I've heard that some of the larger busted girls even hide things under their breasts - truly a sight to see." She giggled now at the continued silence. "At least we're not taking our shirts off for your enjoyment, too." She sent an evil grin in the General's direction. "Even Sam Carter has said that breasts are one of the few things that every female has and that any male captor will automatically ignore." She wrinkled her nose in concentration as she then began working on the braid in her hair. "And have you ever noticed that all Jaffa are men? They would never think to look under breasts or in hair for concealed supplies." She was now yanking her hair out of its twisted French braid, working her fingers into the middle of the strands, clearly probing for something. "The worst any captor can do if they find our secret supplies is to take them. And besides..." Anger now expended, she smiled a fully wicked smile and indicated her breasts. "As they say, if you've got 'em, don't just flaunt 'em, _use_ 'em!"

And that's just what the women were doing - using every part of their anatomy that they possibly could, whether they were large busted or not. The maxim of 'if you got it, use it' obviously also included their clothing. Two of them even took off extra pairs of BDU pants concealing second pairs of pants underneath. One tall woman threw her extra pants at Jack, yelling, "Here, General - put these on - they might be short, but at least they won't fall off!"

The even taller Captain Ally Schumann sent her second trousers sailing in Teal'c's direction. "These might be big enough to fit you, too." Second Lieutenant Lynn Bennett pulled off four extra pairs of cotton underwear and handed them to Ariana Law, a civilian linguist on SG-10, who was diligently using the tiny razor blade that Major Brody had finally fished out of her hair to cut off any soiled sections of the underwear she was being given and to rip off the top piece of elastic. Civilian anthropologist Ashley Verstrate was just as industriously gathering up the material left after Law had finished carving them so that they were in a neat pile easy to get to. She was also encouraging the men to hand over their cotton briefs as quickly and quietly as possible while Jack finally thawed enough to give his report.

"We're all on Cimmeria."

"Cimmeria?" Daniel retorted as he divested himself of his pants. "We were captured on PXR-595 - that's light years from Cimmeria! What are we doing here?"

Teal'c responded, "Clearly this is where Ba'al's cloning facility is located. He needed to clone you. You were transported to it."

The same type of thing had happened to all of SG-2. Major Coburn reported, "We were infiltrating a Goa'uld vessel when we were shot with zats... then we woke up here."

Bosworth of SG-13 agreed. "That same thing happened to us - we were ambushed."

"On PC7-141," Balinsky filled in.

Senior Airman Travis Fortune continued, "And weren't we on some ship for awhile? It was always dark - so it was kinda hard to tell."

Now fully in control of himself again, Jack broke in to ask everyone, "And you were all brought here?"

As one, they all nodded, except the women, who were still busy with what they were doing.

Jack tried hard to ignore what that was. Fortunately, no one had taken her shirt off yet. "And I bet there was some kind of cloning-you-all ceremony," he continued, trying to ignore the women. "They would need clones for taking over the SGC."

"They did clone us!" Arie Law exclaimed from her place on the floor. "At least, there was some kind of machine that we all were sent to."

"But we didn't know it was for clones!" Captain Connor insisted. "And we had no idea we were on Cimmeria... or about the SGC thing!"

A worried expression fell over Colonel Edwards's face as he turned to Jack. "They're not really taking over the base, are they, General?"

Jack blew out a breath as he pulled on the pants he'd been given. "They are. Carter figured it out."

"Of course she did," Daniel muttered, now stripping off the briefs he wore. He successfully paid no attention to his nakedness as he then threw the briefs to Arie Law in order for her to magically turn them into a bandage clean enough for the Infirmary.

In a hushed voice, Jack then told them everything he could recall, particularly highlighting Carter's concerns about SG-13 and Daniel in his report. As he talked, he absently watched Jan Brody efficiently replace her clothes as if she had done this very thing a million times before. She then continued to fumble with her hair, finally pulling two pieces of dark wire from the black strands she'd just freed. She handed them to an amazed man standing beside her, then fished around for more booty.

"French braid," she told the man who stared at her in even further amazement. "A French lets you hide a lot more things in your braided hair than just a regular braid." Her amusement at this situation ratcheted up another notch as the man's expression now furrowed in confusion at her names for her braid. "It's much easier to French braid than to put in a herringbone." The confusion deepened, and Brody's laughter peeled throughout the cell. "You know - herringbone. Like that elf's hair in 'Lord of the Rings'"

As one, every scientist in the room suddenly grunted an 'ah' of understanding.

Jack grimaced: it figures that the scientists would get it while he felt too stupid to be in the same room with them. The fact that Carter would also know what Brody was talking about galled him even more.

In the meantime, all the men stared at Brody's dark wires in more confusion. "They're for picking the lock on the door," Brody was forced to explain in irritation, as if all her male colleagues were still infants.

Connor abruptly asked the question that was just now beginning to form in Jack's mind. "If you women always had all this truck with you from the outset, why didn't you do something about our situation before now?"

Jan Brody barked a laugh. "Before, none of you guys knew about what we were doing... and what you didn't know couldn't come out under torture."

"Now we'll have to think of someplace else to hide our things," Ally Schumann said in a low voice, as if she considered this inconvenience to somehow be all her colleague's faults.

Brody barked another laugh. "But we had no idea where we were or what was going on... and this has never been an L&D."

"L&D?" someone redundantly asked.

"Life and Death situation, L&D for short," replied Bennett in clipped tones, as if she thought what she was saying was so obvious that she shouldn't have to say it in the first place.

Any more explanations were cut off when an agonising scream ripped through the quiet chatter in the cell. It went on for what seemed eternity, crawling up their spines and shivering their toes. The blood simultaneously drained out of twenty-six faces. They all turned to regard the General, who stood rooted, silent, and clearly sick by what he'd just heard.

"Sam," Daniel guessed, his voice a whisper, saying what they were all thinking.

Clearly she had regained consciousness long enough to more than likely lose it again.

With renewed energy, the women continued to prepare, ignoring blatant nakedness to concentrate on what they were doing, determined to save a life if they had to, or at least to do everything they possibly could when the time came.

Now all business, Brody hissed, "You four!" She pointed at the four men nearest to her. "Your job is to be her tourniquets until we can tie these bootlaces I just gave you in place." She indicated the man she'd handed the strings to that she'd first pulled from her thighs, then went on with her instructions. "Put your hands together with thumbs touching, and spread your fingers wide, like this." She demonstrated with her own hands. "Place them on this part of her thighs, all the way around her legs, and squeeze like hell, the minute she comes back into this cell. He and I will tie on the bootlaces as fast as we can, and they'll be our real tourniquets. You four do the bandages," she instructed her four female counterparts. "Get that bleeding stopped if it's the last thing you do. You all know how." She briskly turned to Daniel and Jack. "Jackson, you pillow her head. General, you talk to her and keep her distracted, especially if she's conscious, though I expect she'll have fainted. But no matter what, she'll be alright if she _thinks_ she'll be alright. You're the only one she really listens to." She looked as if she understood what she was asking of the General. "Do what it takes... but you've got to keep her alive!"

Now she looked as if she knew _exactly_ what she was asking.

Distracting Samantha Carter was a job for the mythological Superman in a situation where there was no alien doohickey just sitting around for her to figure out. For their talk to be serious enough to successfully distract her for them, he would have to discuss the one thing sure to bowl her over enough to keep her alive: feelings, specifically his... for her, and he'd have to talk about them in public. Nothing less was sure to be interesting enough to take her attention off her lack of legs, off the fact that she could potentially be bleeding out, off the multitude of other injuries she was suffering just now, off the pain that was sure to be so intense that it would be enough to drive her insane.

A moment of weak panic accosted Jack - he seriously thought about pulling his chicken act and trading assignments with Daniel. There was nothing more that he would like than to not rock the boat right now.

But then his immutable will asserted itself once more, and his panic attack was under control in record time. He couldn't chicken out _again._ Sam would never forgive him this time... if she lived, that is. The place he currently held in Carter's life was not as secure as he had always dreamed it would be: nothing had really been firmly decided. He felt that she had his heart and had had it in all its entirety for quite some time, but she might not think so. That earlier schmaltzy bit in Ba'al's clone room may have been an act on her part. She might have been bent on nothing more than making Ba'al as frustrated as hell in the only way she knew how.

Contrarily, if she died, he would too. The moment he had that thought, the decision of what to do was easy for him. Resolve spidered through him until he was determined that she would live or he would die keeping her alive.

And so he nodded in agreement to Major Brody, knowing full well what she was asking. The term 'crunch time' had never felt so descriptive before.

Major Brody had just rebraided her hair when crunch time came sooner than they expected. They heard the familiar thump of Jaffa footsteps in the corridor, and hurried to hide their booty from sight lest it get confiscated, to straighten clothes, and to look lost and forlorn. The emotion wasn't hard to display - they were all aware that it would be amazing if they actually pulled this off, and that sliver of doubt was enough to make their faces as drawn as drawn could get.

Once it started, it happened quickly. The Jaffa appeared, Colonel Carter slung halfhazardly in one of their arms. Her own arms dangled at the Jaffa's sides, making her appear dead already. She was a mess of broken bones and dirt. An ever-widening pool of blood collected while the cell door swung open. None of the captives entertained even a notion of escape when, completely impassive, the Jaffa simply tossed her through the open door. If Jack hadn't coincidentally been right at the front to catch her, she would have crashed to the hard stone floor.

It could only have taken seconds for the Jaffa to slam and relock the door, and to then clank away in a loose formation, their faces maddeningly composed. Jack's and Daniel's frantic movements to lower Carter to the ground and try to stem the bleeding at the same time got them through the seconds it took for the final Jaffa warrior to vanish around the corner nearest their cell. Then, in a coordinated burst of movement, the SGC personnel exploded into action.

The four designated men immediately formed tourniquets with their hands at just the right place on Colonel Carter's thighs for the flow of blood dripping from just below her still-intact knees to be cut by half. Moving furiously, Major Brody and Captain Spovak tied the bootlaces in their hands as tightly as possible given that they didn't have anything on hand to twist the laces tighter. Brody ordered the victim's legs to be propped up to help slow any remaining bleeding, and the intense fight to completely stop her bleeding as quickly as possible began.

Jack was oblivious to all the hectic activity going on around him. Using his first two fingers of his right hand, he probed Carter's wrist, then her neck, relieved by the fact that he finally found a pulse. However, just in the time that his fingers dug into her skin for her pulse, that steady rhythm of her heart slowed perceptibly. Terrified that it would stop altogether, Jack launched into the first ramble that leapt into his mind.

"I won't bother telling you that you won't die right now, Carter. We won't let you, but you know that. You won't believe me, anyway, no matter what I say. But I have faith in you - you won't die now, and to top it all off, you'll end up saving our asses to boot."

Daniel looked as if he wanted to add something, but swallowed his comment at the last second. He did lean close to Sam's left ear and say, "Yeah... what he said."

Surprised, Jack blinked. That was probably the most succinct he'd ever heard Daniel be since he'd met the archaeologist.

"Hey Carter," Jack went on. "I know that my total faith in you must be annoying as hell, but you can't argue that it's well-placed faith." He winced. "Actually, you probably _can_ argue with me on that. Tell you what... you live through this, and I promise that you can bite my head off about it later."

Daniel snorted a laugh, which sounded strange in this dire situation, but at the same time brought an amount of macabre entertainment to the scene.

All of a sudden, without any effort on his part whatsoever, Daniel faded from Jack's awareness to be replaced by the gruesome killing memories that had been paraded in that cloning room of Ba'al's. Coming at him out of nowhere, the memories jumbled together with new memories of all the slugs Carter had been forced to endure on his account, forging inexplicably together to accost his mind before he could stop them.

Now, without a speck of doubt, Carter knew everything there was to know about him, too: the good, the bad, and all the sordid parts in-between. She now had intimate knowledge of what a horrible monster he had been for much of his life, and this latest bleeding bout was all for his benefit as well. If Carter lived through this, she was sure to hate his guts for the rest of her life.

Now that she knew exactly what he was, she had to be so filled with disgust... when she was awake. There was no way in this Universe that she would ever have an iota of interest in furthering the fledgling relationship that she and Jack had begun on Thor's ship. She would be counting her lucky stars that she hadn't had time to get more involved with him than she had. The love she felt for him was sure to vanish, just as Ba'al wished. She would be so sickened by him, who had clearly killed so many people, she would...

At that point, Jack shut down his brain. He couldn't stand the thought of making Carter sick, couldn't acknowledge the idea that his last hope was now well and truly shattered, and that he had none other than his most scummiest of scummy enemies to thank for it. That thought made him want to hurl. He fought to get the nausea under control. He couldn't help Carter if he was throwing up. He hoped that his face betrayed nothing about his thoughts - Danny was just too observant for his own good. At any moment, he would see Jack turning green, and would wonder what he was thinking.

Then what would Jack tell him? Having one member of his former team 'in the know' as to Jack O'Neill was practically flattening him. What would he do if Daniel ever found out? And if Daniel knew, then Jack was sure that it was only a matter of time before Teal'c knew. The next thing, Teal'c would be requesting to return to Chulak. He'd say that joining the Tau'ri had been a mistake, that Jack O'Neill was not the noble man he'd thought him to be, that...

Jack forcefully reigned in his wayward thoughts. None of this mattered anyway if Major Brody and her hodgepodge medical team was unable to get Carter's heavy bleeding under control and fix her other injuries. There was still every probability that Carter would die.

Carter - gone.

That idea gave Jack chills, ironically distracting him from the memories he wanted above all things to forget. Yet even a distraction left him sweaty and trembling, his heart slamming against his rib cage. But he welcomed the accompanying self-loathing. It was better than a Carter-loathing...

He couldn't think about this anymore, not right now, not here. It threatened to completely obliterate him in a seconds. He needed a further distraction, fast.

So Jack immediately blurted the first thing that came into his mind, "I have doubts about Shanahan. It's true. Not doubts as to who he is... or what he is... though I had doubts about that, too. This time I mean doubts as to letting him tag along on this mission. I've felt kind of bad about him since the very beginning... and where is he? I wish I knew. It's almost like my doubts are being confirmed without me even trying. It's scary. And I had doubts about Jonas... Quinn, not Hansen. And doubts about Daniel..."

"Hey!" an indignant Daniel interrupted.

Jack ignored him. "And to be honest, I had doubts about a certain captain being as capable as she was pretty."

Daniel's third snort almost derailed Jack from his monologue, but Jack continued as if Carter's life depended on his speech.

"You'd say that doubt was deserved." Jack's voice turned skeptical. "And maybe it was... at first. But it probably wasn't." His snort was self-deprecatory. "Maybe I just had a stick so far up my ass at the time that I needed you to yank it out for me. Maybe that Captain used that second Abydos mission to change my mind for me about scientists at a time when it wasn't so easy to change my mind... about anything."

Carter suddenly coughed, and for one glorious second, Jack thought she was waking up, but she remained heavily unconscious. Instead, blood trickled down her jaw to drip onto her neck. Without missing a beat, Jack carefully wiped the string of red away. From that string of coughed blood he knew one or both of her lungs were punctured, or her ribs were badly broken, or she had internal bleeding. She could do little at this point except gurgle on her own fluids, and her breathing started to rattle with each breath.

Jack's heart skipped a beat, and his fingers probed frantically for a pulse. He was mentally preparing himself to begin CPR when he found her pulse again, fainter this time, but definitely there. He tried not to think about the fact that with every beat of her heart, she was pumping her blood out through her now useless legs. He wanted desperately for her to stop doing that, but at the same time wanted her heart to keep thumping away inside her chest just like normal.

Jack casually went on with his speech. "It was you who changed my mind, you know, Carter. It seems there's nothing you can't do. So of course my faith in you is annoying - you're annoying. Believe me when I say you're gonna be fine, and we're gonna get out of this yet. Have a little faith in _me_ if you won't believe in yourself."

Just then Major Brody triumphantly called, "The bleeding's stopped... or slowed. I think that does it!" She tied off the bandages with another bootlace that had magically appeared and sat back on her heels.

Just in time for a completely unexpected thing to happen next. Jack had just realized that he had forgotten to even mention his secret (or not so secret) feelings for Carter when a white light suddenly coalesced around her and she vanished right out from under his hands.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Jack stared blankly at the spot that Carter had occupied a second before, his mind and body numbed again. When his thaw began, he was unable to stop himself from mumbling, "Please please please let her be with Frazer!"

It was a comment that startled Daniel anew. "Jack! How can you say that? I hope to God that she _isn't_ with Fraiser!"

Jack instantly scowled. "Frazer, not Fraiser!"

"What?" Daniel asked, seemingly as slow on the uptake as usual.

"Frazer!" Jack expostulated, trying to encourage the linguist to read his mind.

Daniel just sent him an aggravated look. "That was an Asgard beam or I'm not an archaeologist. Is Thor here? And who is this Frazer?"

"Shhhh!" Jack quickly hissed a whisper, so quiet now that Daniel had to lean in close just to hear him. "No one's supposed to know about... my buddy... being..!" And he pointed at the floor, indicating without a word that he meant 'here,' as in at Cimmeria. He gave a furtive glance into the empty corridor outside the human's cell. If any of Ba'al's Jaffa were lurking around to spy on the Tau'ri... Sometimes, Jack wanted to kill Daniel just to shut him up.

Jack peered intently at the SGC personnel now crowding around him and Daniel. Everyone was listening to his every word and watching his gestures now that no one had to deal with a bleeding patient. Jack sighed once, half in gratitude, and half in aggravation. He understood that he was now going to have to explain the entire situation to them, or he would have a riot on his hands.

So quiet that he was almost silent, Jack spent the next several minutes enlightening his former coworkers on the Asgard take on this cloning situation, on Loki, and on The Protected Planets Treaty. He skipped over the information about the presence and location of Bra'tac's cloaked ship - if anyone (like Ba'al) somehow discovered that information from him, or anyone else, this mission was well and truly SOL. He wouldn't forgive himself for that. However, relating most of the story helped to focus his concentration, and above all, aided him in not spending every last bit of his energy worrying about his memories, an injured Carter, what she would think of them and him when she woke up, or where she had been whisked away to in the first place. For all he knew, Ba'al could very well have Asgard tech at his disposal, and was even now working Carter over in his torture chamber since she hadn't so conveniently died after her previous stint with him. His imagination worked overtime on the horrors she could be dealing with, but firmly reminded himself how that beam had certainly seemed to be of Asgard origin, and as he knew that Thor was conveniently orbiting Cimmeria even now in a cloaked ship, he had to believe that Carter was in his or Frazer's capable hands, though he didn't know why or how Thor knew that Carter needed his medical expertise, or why he knew to transport her at that precise moment.

Jack ended his enlightening speech with the dire words, "I'm ordering all of you... well, I can't order you anymore, since I'm retired... I'm begging you not to say a word about the... you know, or about Carter and... them."

"Mum's the word, General," Jan Brody interrupted, speaking for all her coworkers when she made the promise. "And I'm turning control of this mission back over to you now that the medical emergency has passed."

Jack did a double take. "Didn't you just hear me say that I'm retired? As the base 2IC, Reynolds should be..."

"You're the senior officer," Reynolds swiftly said. "Plus you're the better strategist of the two of us - that makes you team leader." He glanced at his fellow SGC officers. "Agreed?"

As one, they all nodded, or gave other signs of agreement.

Jack was again a bit taken aback at how fast that consensus had been reached - the last he recalled, he had acted less than mature when he'd left these people to face the Goa'uld alone and gone on walkabout for nine months. But he didn't have time to comment on the mysterious amount of trust these people still had in him, or on his status as elected leader - Teal'c spoke first.

"We have succeeded in unlocking the door, O'Neill."

He and Captain Schumann had indeed managed to use the small mirror that had been part of the female airmen's hidden contraband to finagle the wires taken from Major Brody's hair into unlocking the door. It had been a relatively easy thing to do once one could see what needed to be done.

"Okay," Jack whispered, slowly pushing the door open just to make sure it acted as Teal'c had promised. The door obligingly swung an inch into the corridor outside.

The door's unlocked state didn't send thrills coursing through Jack, though. He was too ambivalent to be very excited - on one hand, he was still worried enough about Carter to want to stay right where he was and make it simpler for her to locate him. Rule number one of the perpetually lost - hug a tree, or in this case, a cell bar, making it easier for the search party to find you rather than wandering around in circles. On the other hand, this sudden freedom meant just that - freedom. He still had a mission to complete despite Carter's recent disappearance. The fact that a continuing mission would also be a good way to keep his focus away from useless worrying about Carter was just a convenient side effect. Or so he hastily told himself.

Jack pulled the door almost closed again, then regarded the expectant faces of the available people under his command, all clearly waiting for his orders, just as he had ordered them before. For a single minute, Jack quailed at the looks of patient confidence on those faces; he instantly wanted to protest their strange faith in him. He may have commanded them at one time, but it had been months since he had so much as issued an order about what kind of light-bulbs to use in the SGC. Now he was expected to just slip back into the roll of base commander without any fuss?

But in the next second, the mantle of command had settled once again on his shoulders in a familiar and welcome shroud. With just as much ease, Jack immediately knew what they were all going to do. Tensing his muscles, he told them in a low voice, "Here's the plan."

Like all Jack's plans, it was deceptively simple.

First, a few of the SGC personnel would find and raid the armory. The humans would need weapons if they had any chance of successfully completing this mission, and Jack reasoned that a facility like this cloning castle had to have some kind of a centralized place where Ba'al's Jaffa kept a stash of weapons, just in case things got dicey. He also expected that particular place to be carefully guarded, but not look like it was guarded at all so as not to draw undue attention. If the humans planned to waltz in there and take whatever they needed without possibly facing heavy resistance, he was deluding himself about how easy this was going to be. Ba'al was no fool. He would carefully guard his weapons cache, or Jack wasn't an Air Force General... former General.

But as the Tau'ri needed whatever weapons they could get their hands on, and any weapons that were available were sure to be guarded within an inch of their lives, Jack made the best tactical decision he could at this point: he sent in the Marines.

He wanted to go himself, but refused to give in to his desires on this one. At a basic level, he understood that it had been a long time since he'd been in the field, and though he was loathe to admit it, he had allowed himself to get just a bit soft during his time as base commander, not to mention the months he'd spent 'on the run.' Strategically, he knew that he would only slow his Marines down, though sitting out and letting his younger SGC comrades procure enough weapons for them all was nothing less than nailbiting.

But Jack only allowed himself the satisfaction of metaphorical nailbiting. The officer part of him would never let him appear as anything but the unruffled General to his subordinates. His team, he knew, could paint a different picture (especially Carter, and especially now, but he wouldn't think about that) Fortunately, Daniel and Teal'c weren't talking, and Carter was...

Jack refused to let himself dwell on Carter now. Dwelling led to fretting, which led to pointless worry, and he didn't have time for squandering his attention on personnel concerns. So he lent his tone a businesslike quality as he asked the three Marines available to him to do whatever they had to do, but to bring back enough weapons for all of them. They opened the door a minute amount, and the three slipped out the tiny slice of freedom, leaving Jack behind to start his theoretical chewing.

Jack's thoughts instantly traveled with the three, recalling armaments, possible places for spy implements, and any other safe guards for Ba'al's Jaffa that he could think of on the spur of the moment. Then he purposefully brought his thoughts to a screeching halt. One thing he couldn't afford at this point was useless second guessing, and he set about to distract himself.

But before he had the chance to distract himself at all, he was waylaid by a tense Daniel. "Jack, I want to talk to you!" the archaeologist demanded.

It was a state of affairs that had Jack sighing in resignation - Daniel always wanted to talk. "What is it this time?" he patiently asked.

"Did I hear you right a few minutes ago?" he rushed to inquire.

When he didn't elaborate, Jack waved him on. "About..?"

Daniel grimaced at the prompt. "When you were talking to Sam a few minutes ago."

He'd said a lot of things to Carter. "About..?"

Daniel's grimace deepened at this second prompt. "Is it true that Shanahan's here?"

Oh, that. Jack sighed. "Yes. He accidentally..." He'd almost mentioned Thor again - crap! "He convinced me to take him on this mission with us - for all the good it's doing. And all of it was definitely against my better judgment!"

Daniel balked. "Jack! What were you thinking, inviting him on something like this?"

"Something highly classified, you mean? It wasn't my choice," Jack again emphasized. "Simply put, Shanahan poked his nose in where it doesn't belong... again."

Daniel looked around, then pointedly asked, "So, where is he?"

Again came the resigned sigh. "If I knew that, Daniel, don't you think I would have told you by now?"

"So you have no idea?"

"Wish I did. With my luck, he's a Jaffa ornament hanging on the wall like Han Solo in the Carbo stuff."

"Carbornite," Daniel instantly informed him. "Which is invented Hollywood crap, and you know it."

"I do know it - but I bet you never knew that Carter was carrying around half of Colorado in her hair."

Daniel winced. "Her hair is too short to... I bet she had stuff under her..."

So not going there! "Did you know that she was doing that?" Jack interrupted in order to distract him.

Daniel considered, "Well, I..."

"Don't change the subject!"

Daniel look at him assessingly, then gave a resigned sigh and announced, "You knew." His second sigh was even heavier. "Why am I always the last to find out everything?"

Jack clapped his friend on his shoulder, just thankful he had waylaid the archaeologist from talking more about Carter's... nope, not thinking about it! "You must have missed the memo. That's alright - you were probably dead at the time."

It took the three Marines several trips to the armory before all the Tau'ri were armed with zats. So he wouldn't go nuts waiting for them to return each time, Jack made some preparations of his own to keep his mind occupied and off the Marines, off Carter, off Ba'al, off the possible success or failure of this mission... If he could turn his brain completely off for awhile, he would. As it was, the questions that he was determined not to ask continued to circle uselessly in his mind, like a whirlpool of doom. How did Carter stand so much cranial activity all the time? His sanity teetered as it was!

So to focus himself on something else for the time being, he crossed to the unfortunate airman who had died at the hands of Ba'al's evil First Prime.

Furtively untying the laces on the man's boots, he took a moment to glance once at the serene face of the dead man. He was young - so young that Jack automatically flinched. He didn't even know this one's name. He must have transferred to the SGC while Jack was away.

"Anybody know this guy's name?" he asked as he untied.

"Airman First Class Andy Wallace," someone replied.

Jack didn't see who had spoken, but sighed sadly instead. "Hope he's in a better place right now." He considered what he was doing. "And hope he doesn't mind if I borrow his boots for awhile - seeing as he won't be needing them."

It was Reynolds who responded, "He would be honored, Sir. I met him once in the Commissary when he first started at the SGC - he revered you."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jack sourly quipped. "I bet my stunt of vanishing for months at a time kind of tarnished his reverent image."

Reynolds soured as well. "Hardly. He figured you had good reason."

Jack recalled the reason without any prompting. "He was right," was all he said, but had to swallow hard in order to say it. To cover his emotions on the subject, he peered at the boot size the second he had removed the footwear. "Teal'c, what size feet do you have?"

"Size 15," Teal'c rumbled.

Which surprised Jack. "Really? That big? Mine are only twelves. And since these are thirteens..." Better to be too big than too small. He ceremoniously spoke to Airman First Class Andy Wallace, "My feet forever thank you," and slipped on the boots, glad to have something on his feet again besides just the black slippers that Thor had given him.

When he was done, he gestured to Teal'c. "Come here, T."

"There are no extra boots that will..."

"T." Just saying that much was enough. Teal'c offered his foot without further protest. "Give me his socks," Jack next ordered. While the socks were being procured, Jack considered one of the female airmen. "You got more of those bootlaces on you?" Two laces sailed through the air at him. "Thanks." He plucked them out of the air, then laid them on the ground. "You guys... er, gals got any extra underwear pieces on you?"

Puzzled, Major Brody handed over what she had. Jack laid them vertically atop on of the horizontal bootlaces, four thick, then did the same with the other bootlace. At last he laid the socks over top all of it. "Teal'c, put it there, pal."

Teal'c put one foot on top of each pile, and Jack crisscrossed the laces over the top of his feet, crossed them again under the foot, crossed again on top, then under, then managed to capture just enough of the material around the Jaffa's ankle to give it a final crisscross before tying the laces off. "There. That should be better on your feet than the ground, at least until we get back to the SGC."

Teal'c studied his new footwear. "It is functional... and efficient. Thank you, O'Neill."

"No problem." Jack stepped back, unaware that some of the personnel were now staring at him in undiluted awe at the way he was so quickly able to use what he had at hand. Such undiluted hero worship made him distinctly uncomfortable. He was simply ecstatic that he'd managed to distract himself for so long that the Marines were back for the last time, many zat guns in their clutches.

Jack would have preferred the use of some of the Staff Weapons that the Jaffa were always bedeviling the humans with, but he refused to let himself be picky now. _Beggars can't be choosers_ he told himself as five minutes later he was sneaking through the Cimmerian corridors with his SGC colleagues. It was almost like being back in the field again... except for the tiny fact that he had a team of twenty six this time instead of only three (twenty-six 'hinderers' if they turned out to be like Daniel), and he was distinctly aware that he was leading a team that was Carterless. But Jack steadfastly refused to think about his lack of Carter right now. He had Teal'c and Daniel with him... that had to count for something. And even an absent Shanahan didn't automatically make the mission go so far South as to throw it into the basement... it may put it on the stairs heading down... but just letting Shanahan come along on this mission had to count in his favor in some greater Karmic way... or else it meant that he was getting soft in the head. In which case, he wryly thought that it was probably a good thing that he had stepped down as leader of the SGC when he had.

Sooner than he expected, the group reached the cloning center of the facility. They hadn't had any trouble, and had only had to hide from a patrol of Jaffa once. Plus, the cloning room wasn't being guarded, and appeared to be empty of all resistance. This emptiness was either the response of a System Lord and his Jaffa who were both so arrogant as to be sloppy, or this was one heck of a big trap.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

With an upraised fist, he signaled to the SGC group to pause as he continued to scope out the surroundings, expecting a group of hidden Jaffa to jump out at them at any moment to spring that suspected trap.

This idea of course raised the hackles on the back of Jack's neck. _This is all too easy,_ he thought to himself as he cautiously stayed on the room's outer perimeter, his eyes constantly flicking from one portion of that room to the next. He caught sight of the cloning machine, the shackles that had been used to imprison him and Carter, and the consoles and gadgets that still blinked furiously at him. The two cloned Sam Carters rested imperturbably in their cryogenic alcoves, both with eyelids closed tight over their blue eyes. That state of suspended sleep suited Jack perfectly, as he didn't exactly want Ba'al's Carters spying on him just now.

"O'Neill," Teal'c whispered, sidling quietly up to him. "You have a plan?"

Jack blew his breath out in a soundless hiss. A plan? "Of course," he assured.

Joining them, Daniel heard what had passed between the two of them and turned to Jack. "So... no plan, huh?"

Another hiss came from the General. "I got nothin."

Teal'c would have chuckled if Jaffa laughed much. As Teal'c rarely did, he stared straight at Jack with an unflinching gaze and stated, "You think this is an ambush."

Jack cautiously peered across the room. "It's occurred to me." He turned to his friend and whispered, "Did you get the feeling it was waaaay too easy to get here?"

Teal'c looked perturbed. "Yes."

Daniel warily eyed his friends. "You think this is a trap?"

Jack hissed, "Of course I think it's a trap, Daniel. This is Ba'al we're talking about - he isn't so sloppy as to just leave his prize possession out in the open like this unless he was absolutely sure that it was safeguarded."

The three men silently stared at all the alluring emptiness before them, trying their best to think like the paranoid megalomaniac that was Ba'al. Jack had the most success in channeling the System Lord, as he was equally as paranoid, but it was Daniel who thoughtfully spoke up first.

"Maybe it's not a trap. Maybe Ba'al left it open like this for a reason."

Jack glared at him. "Yeah, he wants us dead, so he's luring us out into the open so he can kill us - that's his reason!"

But Daniel shook his head. "Too simple."

Jack's frown deepened. "Excuse me?"

"DanielJackson is correct. Ba'al would not make things so easy for us, or for him, even if it meant our deaths."

Jack bowed gracelessly to what the Jaffa and archaeologist were saying. "Ok, so I agree with you! But how are we supposed to find out what his plans are if we don't send somebody out there to check?"

"That would be a kill-me mission," Teal'c rumbled in a low voice.

Daniel automatically replied, "That's suicide mission, Teal'c, and yeah, I bet you know that, and I don't think killing us is what Ba'al has in mind." His thoughtful gaze still probed the room, looking for clues. "There... and there."

Both Jack and Teal'c perked up in morbid curiosity. "Do you see something?"

Daniel hissed a breath as he kept looking. "Well..." He looked once more, spending several moments gazing at several points in the room. "See that corner by the wall? And one on that console there? And that spot by the cloning machine?"

"Yeah," Jack gusted a huff of air. "So?"

"So..." Daniel didn't expound on his idea further, but took off his right combat boot, then peeled the sock off his foot. Without bothering to replace his boot, he balled up the sock in his fist, then tossed it towards the corner he'd first pointed out.

Before it could hit the ground near the wall, the sock struck a force shield, remaining half way between the group of Tau'ri and the Clone Room's corner, throbbing in time with the field that had captured it in mid flight. Two pulses later, the fried sock dropped to the ground, smoking calmly.

"Ah," Jack said, staring at the singed sock. "Let's say that it was a damned good thing that I'm too paranoid to have sent a person into that shield."

Teal'c finished for him. "We would now have what you call 'shish kabob.'"

Daniel's thoughtful gaze swept over the area. "I don't think these are the common Goa'uld force shields, either."

Jack agreed. "The common shield isn't mean enough for Ba'al."

Daniel stared again at the smoking sock. "Mean enough?" he questioningly repeated, as if to ask how a shield that fried a sock almost beyond recognition wasn't mean enough for Ba'al.

Jack responded, "Goa'uld shields obviously just kill you too fast - these kill you as well as leaving none of those disturbing signs behind that will identify you - so there's no job satisfaction here for old Balsey-boy." He pensively regarded his friend. "Give me your other sock."

Daniel blinked his confusion, but complied. "Uh... why?"

Jack wadded up the sock Daniel handed to him, gagging, but steadfastly ignored the odor of long unwashed smelly foot. "Because I want to do _this_." He tossed the sock in the direction of the console that Daniel had earlier indicated, and again, the sock fizzed and pulsed, then fell to the floor in a smoking heap.

"Well," Jack gazed at the clone machine that was easy to see but impossible to reach - if you wanted to stay alive, at any rate. "Now we know why it was so easy to get here."

"Indeed."

Daniel retied his boots. "So - what do we do now?"

"Turn off the force shields," Teal'c stated as if it was obvious.

Jack regarded the Jaffa. "That's what I love about you, Teal'c - you're so good at stating the obvious."

"But he's right." This time, it was Colonel Reynolds who whispered at their shoulders. "We need to find the power source for those shields, and destroy it."

"What do you suggest, ColonelReynolds?"

But Reynolds was silent as they all gazed at the room, doing their best to detect a power source.

Finally, Jack sighed, deeply regretful when none of them turned up an obvious power source. "If only we had Carter - she would know how to turn off those damned shields."

A second later, Daniel reared back as a thought struck him. "Uh, Jack?"

Jack didn't even look at him. "Don't bother me unless you have a way to phase through a force shield, Daniel."

"Uh..." Daniel continued to stare at the corner of the room.

Irritated more than normal at the archaeologist's interruptions, Jack barked a quiet, "_What_?"

Ignoring Jack's burst of temper, Daniel just pointed to the side of the room he was gazing fixedly at. "You wanted Sam - you've got two of them right here."

As one, the other three men whipped their heads back around to stare where Daniel was now indicating, taken aback. At last, Jack whispered, "Can it be that easy?" After another thoughtful moment, he slugged Reynolds on the shoulder. "Give me your sock - me and Teal'c aren't really wearing any."

Reynolds hurried to comply, and Jack tossed the smelly garment towards the Carter alcove, which was on their side of the force shields. The sock passed harmlessly between the two alcoves, where it hit the wall the two women leaned against, then slithered to the ground. It lay on the cold stone floor, rolled twice, then flattened into a benign looking pile.

They all stared at the sock. "There needs to be a human component to activate the fields around the alcoves?" Jack broke the silence to guess.

"Only one way to find out." And Reynolds slouched away to quickly cross the room before Jack could yell at him for insubordination.

"Reynolds!" Jack hissed in anger anyway, even though he knew the Colonel was beyond hissing range.

Oblivious to his General's displeasure, Reynolds crawled behind two nearby crates, then carefully waved his left pinky between the alcoves.

Though Jack held his breath, expecting the man to get a fried pinky for his troubles, nothing happened. The expectant hush of twenty-six people forgetting to breathe reigned again in the cloning room.

Jack grimly considered his options. _It's been plenty long enough to bring the Jaffa if they were gonna come running._ "Anybody know how to bring these... I don't know - should I call them Carter clones? Should I bring them to life?" he next asked. "Or even just one of them?"

Daniel grabbed his zat. "I'm amazed that Ba'al didn't think to move them behind the force shields."

Teal'c had followed Reynolds to the Carter alcove, but hesitated to end the clones' cryo sleep. "Perhaps this is what Ba'al had in mind for us to do. If so, activating them could be extremely dangerous."

Before Jack had the chance to agree with him, Reynolds said, "We can think of things that way - Ba'al is probably counting on it - after all, he knows you, Sir." He shot a glance in Jack's direction. "Or we can just do it and hope for the best."

Teal'c spent a few seconds sizing up the Colonel, then turned his gaze to the two Carters.

"If anybody can find a power source, now's the time to speak up," Jack quietly called over the group of people surrounding him. "Surely we have a scientist or two with us." His gaze landed on Captain Allen. "John? You're a scientist, aren't you?"

"I study weaponry, not force shields," the Captain replied. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Jack's gaze moved on. "Mrs. Briggs?"

The one-time member of SG-8 gave a start. "I'm a civilian, Sir, and this is my first mission. What am I looking for?"

Jack dismissed her without responding. "Captain Klondike?"

The man, who though a soldier rather than a civilian, also shook his head. "My expertise is 'Gate mechanics. Colonel Carter was training me before she was captured. But I don't know much about small power sources - what if I choose wrong and end up turning someone into one of your steaks?" Before Jack could respond to the barb, he continued, "No offense, Sir."

Jack gave a frown. "Isn't there anybody here who knows power sources?" Nobody raised their hands. "Is this a case of 'I want Carter to do it and not me in case I'm wrong?'"

"We know she won't be wrong," Major Lovelace of SG-10 said. "Why bother with anyone else?"

Jack grunted a shrug - why indeed? "Ok, Teal'c, light her up." He just hoped this didn't turn out to be the stupidest thing he'd ever agreed to.

Teal'c confidently did something to the buttons on the sides of the first Carter chamber. At the same time, Jack realized that he could never call these clones 'Carter.' He already had a Carter, and no clone could ever be the real thing as far as he was concerned. So what should he call them? He supposed he could call the first one 'Sam2' and the second 'Sam3' just for clarity purposes. Sam1 had already done her brand of damage to the SGC. But he wasn't calling the clones 'Carter,' at least.

Ready for a struggle in case this Sam2 clone was too loyal to Ba'al to be of any use, he warily watched as Teal'c finished activating it. Sam2 blinked several times as it woke, yawned once, then stared at them all in at first confusion, then obvious distrust. Jack could see the emotion in her eyes before she said in a ringing voice, "You're not who's supposed to be here."

Jack swiftly crossed to stand next to Teal'c. "Yeah, well, you're stuck with us," he said in his most 'don't argue with me,' tone.

"You're O'Neill, Lord Ba'al's ardent enemy."

So much emotion displayed in any Carter's blue eyes was just eerie to watch. Jack didn't let her words sink in before answering, "I'm General O'Neill, as you well know, and I expect you to do as ordered, Colonel!"

It was almost funny to watch the military training that Ba'al hadn't thought to withhold kick in. "Yes Sir!" she barked a second later.

"Good," Jack brusquely answered. He did his best to forget that this thing was in any way related to his Carter. As long as he could think of it as a thing, his mind stayed a lot clearer. "You're ordered to find the power source of the two force shields in this room, and to deactivate them both." He studied her for another moment, then thought to add, "And don't speak of 'Lord Ba'al' ever again."

Confusion shot through her blue eyes, but her military training was too much to deny. "Yes Sir."

At her confused-but-compliant attitude, guilt shot through Jack. After all, it wasn't her fault that she was a clone at the mercy of an evil jackass like Ba'al. Jack just couldn't stomach hearing about it. At the same time, that didn't necessarily mean that he was unaware of her dilemma of being brought to life (_no Jack, being __**activated**_) due to one person while owing that life to its enemy. That was undoubtedly an unexpected set of circumstances for Carter as well as the Sam2 and Sam3 clones to have to deal with. Still, Jack squashed any feelings of sympathy that he was having - he could not afford to be nicey-nice right now - he had a job to do!

The Sam2 clone was dealing with his brusqueness and the Ba'al issue with Carter's usual aplomb, meaning that she was completely ignoring any impact of either issue. She stepped down from her alcove without a look back at it and set right to work examining the room, the nearest force shield, and anything that might or might not be a power source.

"O'Neill," Teal'c said, breaking into his thoughts about Sam2. "Shall I activate this last clone as well?"

"Sure," replied Jack, sounding more confident about this situation than he really was. "The more, the merrier."

Daniel cut in to add, "Two heads are better than one - especially if they've got Sam's brains inside those heads."

More dials, more pushed buttons, and the next thing Jack knew, he was staring into a much more familiar pair of blue eyes. The Sam2 clone was clearly all military - it now had that blank stare-over-the-shoulder-at-nothing look of the typical soldier down pat. This one, however, had a much more hesitant look in her eyes, as if it knew who he was, what she was supposed to think about him, but had been allowed memories that obviously warred with what it was 'supposed' to think.

Jack instantly felt sympathy course through him, and again had to remind himself that in this situation, he absolutely _could not_ feel any kind of good feelings for anything created by Ba'al. He needed to coldly use the minds of these cloned individuals, then move on. 'Use them and lose them' as the saying went. It didn't matter that these Sam2 and Sam3 beings were clones of the woman he most definitely loved. They were tools, an ends to a means. He would do well to remember that. "I'm General O'Neill."

"I know you," said Sam3 in the eerily familiar tones that were just as eerily lacking in any of the affection he was used to hearing from Carter.

Jack refused to let this deficit bother him. "It's good that you recognize me - it means you know that what I say now is a direct order. I need you to find the power source of the force shields in this room, and to deactivate them."

Sam3 was slower to comply than Sam2 had been. She cocked her head and stared at him in a most disturbingly charming way, but at last agreed. "Of course, Sir." She moved off to sit at the base of the second force shield, staring fixedly at it, clearly lost in a typical Carter round of observation and thought. She had almost experimentally touched the shield with the tip of her index finger when Daniel stopped her.

"Don't touch it!" he bellowed, making them all jump about a foot. He ignored their collective reactions, and moved to Sam3's side. "Look what it did to my sock," he said, pointing out the blackened object lying on the floor. "I don't want that to happen to your finger."

She smiled gratefully up at him. "Thanks, Daniel. I'll be careful."

"Daniel!" Jack hissed, mortified. "This isn't the time to get cozy with the clones!"

Daniel rolled his eyes. "I realize that, Jack. I just don't want her to turn into a Sam Fricassee if I can stop it."

"It's not a 'her,'" Jack continued, still hissing. "It's an 'it!' And it's been ordered to help us, whether it has a burned finger or not!"

Daniel reared back at the vehemence of Jack's speech, and slowly inquired, "Is there some hidden reason why you don't like them? They have the right to be treated with respect, same as Sam, don't they?"

Jack sighed. He so did not want to get into an argument about clone rights with Daniel at the moment. So he dodged the question. "What we need is their brains, Daniel, you said so yourself."

Daniel shrugged. "Yeah, but using what we have available to us doesn't automatically mean that we have to treat it poorly at the same time."

Which was true. But Jack still didn't want to debate the issue with his friend, who had an annoying habit of always taking the humanity side of any argument, leaving Jack to argue the military standpoint. While useful in the long run, the military standpoint often left Jack looking like an emotionless automaton. He avoided these discussions when he could. Instead, he eyed Daniel in mock disgust. "We need their help, and they're helping - end of story! Now instead of spending time on how the Carter clones are feeling, maybe you can help discuss possible power sources with one of them?" That might at least get Daniel off his back, as well as somewhere out of his personal space.

"Sure." And Daniel moved casually over to Sam2, asking her if he could be of service. Soon the two of them were deep in a discussion of something clearly important, according to their wild gestures to several points in the room.

In a lowered voice, Teal'c complimented, "A most masterful redirection of DanielJackson's talents, O'Neill."

"Ah..." Jack grunted. "Daniel's harmless, as you know, but he does tend to get stuck on the issues of a problem rather than the problem itself. I just gave him a nudge in the direction that will solve our problem in the fastest way possible."

"Yes. ColonelCarter struggled the most with channeling DanielJackson's many talents when she took command of SG-1.

Which was a comment that morbidly caught Jack's interest. "Carter struggled?"

Teal'c gazed knowingly at Jack. "I once heard her say that she did not understand why she had so much trouble handling him - you had always made it look so easy."

Surprised at the compliment, Jack did his best to diminish a show of his pleasure. "Well, I have didlie-squat compared to Carter's brains, so I guess we're even."

The 'didlie-squat' reference didn't even faze Teal'c, though it was unlikely that he knew what that word meant. He was just getting that good at sloughing off unusual Tau'ri expressions. "I will endeavor to tell her so when we meet again."

That brought the tenuous Carter situation back to prominent focus for Jack. "And I suppose you're going to tell me that we'll definitely see her again, right Teal'c?"

Teal'c gave his semi grin. "I am confident that we will."

Jack certainly didn't feel as confident about it as Teal'c obviously did. But he pretended that he was. "Yeah. She's with... you know... not with..." Dare he say it? Could he? "... Ba'al." He choked over the word, but was at least able to vocalize that possibility.

"Indeed." Teal'c sagely nodded, then wandered away.

Leaving Jack alone to the mercy of his doubts, as if he hadn't already been at their mercy for a long time. For just a minute, he felt those nervous doubts knife through the butterflies in his stomach. He was a mess in seconds. But he hid the fear slicing through him - he couldn't afford to look unfocused now. He had a job to complete, and he was darned well going to see it through to the end. But he was still left with the niggling thought that Carter just had to be alright!

Jack's anxieties were cut short when he realized that he was staring at Sam3 sitting on the floor near the force shield, still contemplating what kind of power source that type of shield would require. But instead of doing tests on the shield with the usual amount of doohickeys that she unerringly knew how to find, she was instead staring intently straight at him, her hands idle in her lap.

And without the need of a memory recall device, Jack somehow knew that she was seeing a different force shield in her mind. "We were on Apophis's ship," she softly said, recalling the incident. "We were going to destroy it. But there was a force shield..." And she stared at the present shield as if the shield of her memory had somehow transplanted itself into the here and now. "You were on one side of the shield... and I was on the other." Thoughtful pause. "And you refused to leave. I told Anise - that was because we never leave a man behind." She looked like she was struggling to bring this memory into line with the outcome of that particular situation. "But telling Anise all about it wasn't good enough. We were both called Zatarcs." She looked like that term was synonymous with 'traitors.' "We _had_ to be secured... but you decided to do Anise's experimental thing." She gaped at him in wonder. "You should be dead."

That's when Jack realized that there were two memories for her to have of this event. There had been the Zatarc retest... a memory that Ba'al was sure to have deleted from this Carter clone, as it definitely referred to Jack's feelings for Carter, and hers for him.

And there was another memory of the Zatarc situation. It had produced almost the exact same memory, but had emphasized different aspects of that same situation.

The memories were close enough, yet different enough that Ba'al would not have thought to delete this particular memory of the Zatarc test from Sam3 - he had already deleted the second memory, then clearly not bothered to delete its nearly identical twin.

The clone's look of utter confusion that had spurred on Daniel's humane side now arrowed into Jack. The hesitancy that he had seen in Sam3 was nothing compared to the expression of near panic he saw in her eyes right this minute.

And only Jack would be able to explain the situation to her, as he'd been the only other person besides Carter and Anise in the Zatarc room.

Yet, what could he say to this clone to set her back on track of figuring out the force shields? Any kind of useful explanation would have to delve into the issue that Ba'al had so carefully kept from all his Carter clones. He didn't see how one issue could be explained without dealing with the other.

And shouldn't the other Sam clone be confounded by the same memories? Or lack of memories?

But one look at Sam2 showed a woman who was deep in conversation with Daniel, happily considering their options as to hidden power supplies, oblivious of any other human in the room.

In a second, Jack had the reason why she was so oblivious. From the minute they were activated, the two Sam clones had begun living different lives from each other, as well as different lives from Carter's life... wherever she was having it at the moment. (And she was having it!)

This third clone was experiencing something very unexpected. Jack was fairly sure that Ba'al would have simply put an end to her life in order to end this misery of confusion, but he himself could never do such a thing. With no accompanying threat to base wide security, all the reminders and self reprimands in the world weren't enough for him to actually volunteer to end Carter's life, even if the Carter in question was a clone and not the real thing. Jack supposed that a Carter was a Carter, even if this one showed an unnatural amount of hesitation for the Carter that he knew.

But Sam3 was waiting for him to reply. He had to tell her something, and fast, in order to do that redirecting that Teal'c had so recently complimented. He needed 100% of her brain right now - he didn't want it to be stuck in some kind of weird memory loop, especially when he could help avoid it.

At the same time, why the heck was he feeling so uncomfortable? He and Carter were an item now... sort of. There was nothing he wouldn't give to her if it was in his power to give. He had given her his heart, after all. If she already had that, and he admitted to it, he should be proud of her hold on him rather than uncomfortable with it!

Of course, doing what he should do rather than what he was so much more used to doing was another matter.

Still, Jack felt that he had to try.

He sent a look at Sam2 to see how she was doing. More importantly, it was to see if Daniel was aware of what _he_ was doing... or going to do. But Daniel was as oblivious as he often was, intent only on his discussion with Sam2 that had somehow morphed into a dialogue including every other scientist available. The rest of the Earth humans were either hiding or walking the perimeter of the room, intent on keeping those scientists safe. None of them were watching him.

So Jack felt pretty safe in squatting behind a console near Sam3 in order to talk unseen. "Ok, here it is - not pretty, but I haven't got time for pretty right now. The thing is, you're a clone, right? Do you understand at least that much?"

The confusion shifted in her eyes. "I'm a clone? Not the real thing?"

Crap - he didn't have time to go into the 'I'm not real?' issue right now. He decided that bluntness was the best way for him to avoid the following emotional entanglements. "I know this is a lot to take in, but no, you're not the real thing. But you're close enough to the real thing to have her memories. Well," he amended, "most of her memories."

Sam3 wrinkled her nose in more confusion. "Most of them? Why not all?"

"Well, see, that's the problem. You were... created... with one mission in mind. If necessary, you were going to be sent to Earth in order to hurt me in any way possible, and the best way to do that was to..." But the words got stuck in Jack's throat, and he couldn't continue as the memory of that original Gate Room scene came roaring back to leave him shaken.

Not that his continuing mattered, however. "I was... created?" she questioned in disbelief. "By who?"

"Whom. By Ba'al."

"Ba'al!"

"Shhhhh!" Jack sent another quick glance around to see if the scientists had overheard the explanation. They hadn't. He breathed a sigh of relief, telling himself that he could explain this to her, but didn't exactly want to defend his actions of the past year to anybody else just now.

"Yes, Ba'al. He had some sick, twisted idea that cloning Carter, then holding her captive while sending back one of her clones... there were originally..." His voice trailed off again, and he heaved a sick sigh. How had this become so complicated so quickly? Jack gazed into the familiar blue eyes brimming with the equally as unfamiliar confused hesitation, and decided that no matter how afraid this naturally made him feel, he was going to have to sum up. "Ok, you and I are... and have always been... on the attraction side of the frat regs. Ba'al cloned Carter, and used a memory device to literally 'cut out' all those nicer feelings we've always had for each other. The first Sam clone then asked me..." But he couldn't actually vocalize it right now, so, as usual, he attempted to bypass the issue. "It was something that I couldn't possibly do because of my feelings, and I sort of went nuts for awhile... AWOL is more like it. Now, here I am, here you are, this is Ba'al's cloning chamber, and it's my job to blow it the hell up. But I can't do that if I can't touch it, so I know this is a lot to take in right now, but I need you to focus on..."

"But what does that have to do with Zatarcs?"

Crap. He was hoping that she would forget about that. Jack tried to calmly steal himself against his natural reticence when dealing with this topic. "Listen, all Carter's memories of her feelings for me - Ba'al cut them all out, right? That Zatarc memory you're having right now - the one with the force shield - it's only one of two actual memories from that day on that ship. There was the safe thing Carter and I told for the Zatarc tests, then there was what really happened."

Sam3 gaped at him in distress. "What really happened?" she repeated in a tragic whisper, clearly thinking the worst. She knew perfectly well what most likely would have transpired for two humans captured while aboard a Goa'uld ship.

This was what Jack wished she wouldn't wonder about. But then, how could he expect to get used to having Carter by his side if he couldn't even talk about this to her clone? So he forced himself to swallow his nervousness and answer her question. "That's when we both admitted to ourselves and each other that we... care about each other." Oh! Jack could do better than that! Even though saying this out loud was sooooooo hard! "Loved each other."

Sam3 reared back. "But the frat regs..!"

"Yeah, we know, we know," Jack quickly interrupted her, choking at what he'd just said. On a submerged level, it amazed him that he was able to be so open so successfully. It was heartening. "But since that Zatarc thing... Carter's been... medically discharged from the Air Force... due to other reasons, and... and I'm retired, and..." Jack swallowed, then shrugged. "Well, things are... better now," he lamely ended. "But since we were... you know... doing the repressing thing... but we weren't lying!... the Zatarc tester... thing... turned out to be wrong. We weren't Zatarcs... just on the wrong side of the frat regs." Even stuttering as he was, he made the situation sound so simple, and it had never been simple! It was so _not_ simple that he was sweating buckets even as he talked about it. His heart was slamming his ribs like he was facing a natural disaster, but he was also determined to talk about this situation despite his fears. It was just a pity that this conversation was with a Carter clone instead of the real thing.

Before Sam3 could inquire what they had chosen to do about that Zatarc situation, Daniel leaned right over the console Jack was hiding behind to stare straight into his eyes. Obviously he wasn't as well concealed as he'd thought he was. "Jack?"

Jack gave an internal sigh, unable to decide if he was glad for the interruption, or instead wanted to castrate his friend for once again intruding where he wasn't wanted. He stood in order to face the man before he'd fully decided. "Daniel?"

Daniel jerked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the group of scientists. "We came up with several ideas as to possible..."

"Did you find the source, Daniel - yes or no?"

Daniel didn't even blanch at Jack's brusqueness. "No. We've decided that the power source has to be located in another part of this complex, since we can't find anything here that might hide something big enough to power something like those shields."

Jack gave a sigh of aggravation. "We didn't come up with anything, either."

That's when Daniel smiled. "You two seemed awfully cozy to be doing much..."

"Daniel!" Jack blurted, cutting into his friend's observations. "We were doing the memory thing, not being cozy!"

But Daniel's smile didn't diminish with Jack's cranky denial. "If you're so determined that the clone is an 'it,' why were you bothering to do the memory thing at all?"

Jack was stunned - that's right, he had wanted to think of these clones as 'it' rather than 'her.' Sam3 had somehow wormed her way inside him without his notice, and done it quickly at that. Without consciously deciding to think that way, he wondered if this had been its intention all along.

But then he quickly berated himself: how could this clone have any diabolical intentions of her own in the first place? This clone was a servant of Ba'al (and he was loathe to admit that he'd disregarded that fact for even a moment) and it was Ba'al who would be having the nefarious delusions of grandeur, not Sam3. Beyond anything else, no matter what Sam3 was, or who momentarily held it's allegiance, this clone was a _Carter_. Carter didn't have a diabolical bone in her body. Even if the third clone's allegiance was to Ba'al, Jack would have a hard time believing that a simple memory inquest had been part of any grand plan to keep him distracted long enough for Ba'al's forces to surround them.

Though in the next second, that's just what happened. The event had Jack immediately calling his judgment into question. Perhaps he'd been sitting behind a desk for too long and had lost his field edge by now?

Ba'al had time to slowly appear from out of the shadows, wearing a flowing robe and the ubiquitous Goa'uld wrist device. Jack gave him a mysterious one sided smile as Ba'al opened his mouth to surely gloat about his seemingly superior tactical skills when the surprising transpired once again.

SGC soldiers that the paranoid Jack had instructed to lay low while the scientists were so open to attack streamed out from behind consoles and popped from dark corners to surround the Jaffa surrounding the humans in the next second.

It was clear that the Earthers now had the upper hand. Jack mockingly tipped his head towards Ba'al in a show of pure insult as the humans seized the last of the Jaffa's staff weapons.

The minute the humans were done collecting every weapon in the room, the situation suddenly reversed itself a third time. Before anything more than a breath could be drawn, several more Jaffa armed with more staff weapons and zats surrounded the entire group of humans and aliens bent on capturing each other. It was a coup of a coup of a coup, a revolutionary battle fought in three parts, all without spilling a single drop of blood.

This, however, now allowed Ba'al to retain the upper hand, leaving a sour Jack with the knowledge that he'd been outwitted by (gag!) a Goa'uld.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Ba'al's revolting smirk broke out on his face as he stared at the Tau'ri in a satisfaction so absolute that it became downright gleeful when his gaze came to rest on Jack. His silent order to force all the Tau'ri to assume the 'bow before your God' position was almost reverent. All around them, anyone Tau'ri crashed to their knees. When the ugly First Prime happily did the System Lord's bidding with Jack, he could swear that he saw Ba'al smile a genuine smile.

As shock waves tore through Jack's bruised knees, Ba'al did some more of his thoughtful pose before stopping to study his prisoner. He leaned in close, and Jack willed himself not to flinch at his proximity. "Surround the enemy at all costs - it is what you always do if you can. I know you so well, O'Neill." His pause was as boastful as his words. "You may as well surrender now - it is useless to outwit Lord Ba'al."

_Useless my ass! That arrogant son of a..!_ "You keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel all lordly and lofty," Jack jibed back. "Since you know us Tau'ri so well, you should know that we'd rather die than surrender any day of the week - so bring it on." As he spoke, his eyes darted around the room, belying his casual attitude as he ceaselessly searched for anything he could utilize in a daring escape. He'd even take an escape that was not-so-daring right now. But Ba'al's forces had control of all the old and new weapons in the room, and escape of any kind seemed unlikely. How had it come to this so fast? One minute he was talking to Carter about Zatarcs, the next they were...

And that's when it hit Jack that he'd really been the biggest chump in the Universe. He hadn't been talking to Carter. He'd been talking to her clone, a being that he should very well know by now was her, but wasn't in the most important ways imaginable. Like the most asinine man alive, he'd gotten lost in a fine set of eyes. Which is exactly what Ba'al wanted.

His only hope now was that Carter was with the Asgard, and was coherent enough to realize that not seeing a big fireball in the sky meant that they hadn't blown up the cloning facility, and this whole mission had gone South of South in a big bad way. She would then come up with some brilliant plan to rescue them and complete the mission in one fell swoop.

His vision of hope went up in a poof of imaginary smoke when in the next second he recalled how injured she had been. No one hurt that badly would ever be able to complete any mission, to say nothing of this nearly impossible mission in particular. For all he knew, Carter wasn't even alive anymore.

His heart constricted at that thought.

Ba'al didn't notice Jack's internal upset. Jack wanted to point out that as a God, he should have been aware of every one of Jack's thoughts, but a life spent in the military had given Jack years of schooling his expression to reveal nothing personal, even distress. Right then he vowed that Ba'al would learn nothing more from him than he already knew.

Unfortunately, Ba'al already knew quite a bit. "Jack O'Neill," he gloated as he sauntered closer, hands confidently behind his back once more in his pretentiously thoughtful pose. "How is it that you have managed to plague me for so long?"

"Plaguing morons is my special talent," Jack sarcastically replied.

Ba'al's ugly First Prime got to try out his moves when he instantly backhanded Jack. "For your insolence," he menacingly growled, leaving none of the humans with any doubt that much worse was yet to come.

Jack made a show of being hurt for old Ba'al's benefit while thinking that it was better that the violence land on him rather than anybody else. "That's not insolent," he finally retorted, probing his aching cheek with his tongue. "I haven't even started being insolent."

It was a comment that only made Ugly Man hit him so hard on the other cheek that Jack's neck almost snapped with the vicious move. Blood blossomed through his mouth in an ever widening swath, and he spit red liquid onto the dirt floor of the cloning room. _That's going to leave a bruise - so much for more clones._

Ignoring his prisoner's subtle shows of defiance, Ba'al continued to look thoughtfully superior. "No thanks to you, I finally discovered your DNA marker on my own." His glance turned joyous. "Yes, I managed to subvert your doctor's generic marker and successfully clone the great O'Neill. My clone is even now working wonders on Earth - all in my name."

Jack smirked. "Lord Ba'al," he mockingly said, "I hate to tell you this - and you _should_ already know all about it..."

Ba'al sighed. "I grow tired of this, O'Neill. Kill..."

"I'm retired," Jack interrupted the expected order for the Jaffa to kill him. "That means snoozing all day, playing all night, doing the dirty when it doesn't wear you out too much... but definitely at the end of your job. As in, gone; as in, no SGC anymore; as in your clone isn't doing anything to anyone on Earth except the retired thing." And he peered up at Ba'al in mock innocence. "Didn't you know?"

Jack was pleased to see that this news fazed Ba'al for a moment, but only a moment. The oiliness coming back in full force, Ba'al ignored Jack's question to instead suggest, "Perhaps you would like to know how a God initially decided on cloning your girlfriend instead of the others on your team."

"Not particularly." Jack grimaced, but not because of the girlfriend remark - because he hated the taste of the blood that was still washing through his mouth. Carter _was_ his girlfriend after all. At least, she sorta was. He'd already established that to himself.

But Ba'al just _had_ to continue. Nothing short of planetary Armageddon could stop a good Goa'uld gloat fest. "You squealed for someone named Daniel while under torture."

Jack doubted that he had 'squealed' about anyone in his entire life, but if Ba'al wanted to delude himself like that, who was he to stop him? Besides, it was just too much fun to play with this posing idiot to stop now.

And as he watched, Ba'al's pose of pensiveness purposely deepened - Goa'uld thoughtfulness was as fake as everything else they did. "However, I quickly realized that this Daniel you spoke of was far from desirable bait for you."

_The fact that he was dead at the time was a bit of a deal breaker_ Jack said to himself. But of course, Ba'al being a God would already know that, so there was no use in vocalizing it. Yet the way Ba'al continued, he had no idea that Daniel had ever died... in the Ascended way, or course. So much for Godhood.

"The way you so casually mentioned him in your gravity cell..." Ba'al didn't stop, but did pause when he saw Jack do an infinitesimal double take. "Yes, your cell was full of listening devices, as you should have guessed." He took a moment to peer closely at Jack, studying again. With a disappointed expression, he noted, "For a human who has eluded capture for so long, I expected more of you." His contemplative circling continued. "But this Daniel, whoever he was, wouldn't do as bait, obviously."

Oh, obviously. "As if you know."

Ba'al simply gave his creepy smile. "Of course I know - I am a God."

Ah, a God - they were back to that again. "Don't give me that 'It's obvious, I'm a God' crap again," Jack injudiciously blurted. "You guessed, and you know it." It was a statement that only earned the threatening promise of another punch from the First Prime. To his credit, Jack didn't even flinch.

Ba'al stayed the hand of his First Prime before he could bruise Jack for a third time. "Believe what you will," he taunted Jack in a flat voice. "When I am finished with you, you will be begging for the truth."

"Delude yourself much?"

"I am your God!"

"You are a mistake of the Universe," Jack insisted. "Just because..."

And there came the third slug from Ugly Man, this time across the back of Jack's neck. Jack fell to the floor with the strength of the blow, but if he unnerved old Ba'al, it was worth any amount of pain. He slowly rose back to his knees, warily watching the First Prime from the corners of his eyes.

Ba'al's arrogance was now all encompassing. "That mouth of yours will truly get you into trouble one of these days."

This wasn't trouble already? "My mouth has a habit of saying whatever the hell it wants."

Ba'al's smile burst forth, causing chills to cascade down Jack's spine in spite of his bravado. "Then perhaps I will have it sewn shut."

The threat had its desired effect - Jack didn't say anything more. But his silence wasn't due to threats, as Ba'al was sure to convince himself. It was more because if he kept quiet, then Ba'al would get done doing his mandatory gloating thing all the faster, and the real fun could start. Though now that he thought about it, real fun had the tendency to either get him tortured into unconsciousness, or get him _really_ tortured into unconsciousness. Either way, it was still better than listening to another of Ba'al's incessant lectures on his Godly superiority. As the System Lord went on, Jack idly wondered what McKenzie would do with that information.

"Daniel was someone you spoke of too often." Ba'al was being irritatingly all-knowing again. "Though a member of your team, and deemed hasshak..." and he spit the Goa'uld word, "after careful study, I could see that he was enough to bring you out in the open, but not enough to bring you out unthinkingly."

Not to mention the dead thing. _Ascended thing_, Jack corrected himself. Carter had tried to explain the difference to him, but had quickly given it up as a lost cause. According to him, the Ascended thing and the dead thing were an awfully lot alike, no matter what Carter had said about 'planes of existence.'

Jack was distracted from his two-year-old memories by Ba'al. Here the System Lord got right up in Jack's face again, searching his eyes for something in particular. "I wanted you unthinking," he casually informed as if it no longer mattered if Jack knew. "Men who don't think are hurt much more quickly." Ba'al resumed his circling. "I next considered the Shol'va - you _did_ rescue him from Apophis. There must be some redeeming quality about him." Teal'c's growl of defiance was barely discernible. Ba'al ignored him to go on, "But even if I managed to kill the Shol'va, I was sure to turn him into a martyr for that band of misfit warriors he has, and I did not want to do that." Again came his greasy smile. "Why don't you tell us what happened next?"

Jack sighed a sigh of supreme aggravation. Was he ever gonna finish? "Frankly, I don't give a damn."

Ba'al went on without missing a beat, as if he'd known ahead of time that Jack would refuse to play along with him. "You have three members of your team: Daniel Jackson, the shol'vah Teal'c, and... Samantha Carter."

"Wrong," Jack had the pleasure of announcing. Ba'al stood before him, implacable. He didn't remark on the wrong comment, behaving as if he wasn't astounded by it at all.

But Jack wasn't fooled. This was all some grandiose acting job.

When Ba'al didn't respond in any other way except to stare more chillingly, Jack finally responded himself, "We had a fourth member - or perhaps you're forgetting about Jonas Quinn."

Ba'al replied predictably. "No, I foretold him."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Of course you did."

Jack O'Neill was one of the few people ever to do something as insolent as roll his eyes at Ba'al and get away with it. Jack suspected that Ba'al only allowed it because he secretly enjoyed Jack's mouthiness. In fact, Ba'al's next words were surely meant to put him firmly in his place. "He was not from Earth, and did not stay for more than a year." His superior mein now turned smug. "Samantha Carter, on the other hand, was very accessible, very much on the planet, very much a part of SG-1, and according to my intel, very much a part of _you_."

Jack didn't like where this was going. Another chill snaked down his spine at the way the alien purred out Carter's name. He wanted to tell Ba'al to leave Carter out of this, but that would just call everyone's attention right where he didn't want it. So Jack taunted instead, "Yeah, tell us all something we don't already know, why dontcha? Now, can we..?"

But Ba'al had only just begun. "You mentioned her once in your gravity cell. Just the one time, speaking I assume about some mythical rescue you erroneously hoped would come about."

Jack sneered. "As I recall, that hope wasn't so erroneous, was it?"

Ba'al didn't let Jack's pointed barb derail him. "I studied you and your team every time any System Lord came in contact with you - if the information fell into my hands, I dissected it, looking for..?" His voice trailed off, clearly expecting Jack to finish his comment.

But Jack remained stubborn, refusing to finish anything started by Ba'al. "Why don't you tell us, as you so obviously want to."

Ba'al chuckled in delight. "As you wish, Tau'ri."

Jack wasn't deluded into thinking that he could wish for anything in this scenario.

"You mentioned Daniel several times, but too often to give me the idea that you would blindly rush to his rescue. The shol'va could be martyred, and I did not wish that. But Samantha Carter..." Ba'al paused as if he found just the thought of her to be succulent. Jack didn't like that at all, as he suspected that Ba'al knew. The System Lord was goading him.

When Jack didn't give him the violent reaction he clearly hoped for, Ba'al simply continued, "Admit it, O'Neill. You always had a soft spot for the woman." Ba'al looked like he didn't blame O'Neill for any positive emotion concerning Carter, especially of the physical kind.

Jack didn't want Ba'al to be appreciative of Carter at all. So again he said nothing.

If this irritated Ba'al, he didn't let on. "I learn so much from listening to prisoners in their cells," he pleasantly informed. "They tell me far more when I am not torturing them than when I am."

Jack wouldn't let even this thinly veiled challenge get to him. "Congratulations, Snake Boy."

Such an insult would have incensed any other Goa'uld in a nanosecond, but Ba'al shrugged the words off. "I know that I should be offended..." And he smiled again. "But I know what is coming."

"Oh, here we go." Jack's mumbled remark was mocking again, and annoyed. "Here's where you tell me that it was my fault Carter got the full Ba'al treatment."

"But it was," Ba'al drawled in enjoyment as Jack's discomfort visibly increased. "You are a man highly trained in the art of subterfuge."

"Recognized a fellow con-artist, did you?"

Ba'al made a show of tolerance. "As I know this about you, the fact that you only mentioned this Samantha Carter's name once told me much more than you were actually telling me."

A niggle of complete understanding suddenly zipped through Jack's mind. It was so fast that even he didn't have time to cover up the realization from sneaking across his face before Ba'al saw it.

"Yes, I can see that you begin to understand." Ba'al sounded beyond pleased now, and whispered his next words in Jack's ear, "I have you to thank for choosing my next victim for me." Satisfied, he leaned back to watch the play of realization again mix on Jack's face with his typical military blankness. "It was only luck that I simultaneously found this Ancient cloning device." His smile of fake congeniality vanished. "It was then that I decided that it would be much worse for you to hurt you than to bait and capture you. Torturing this Samantha Carter wasn't enough - I knew that she was similar in makeup to you - she would resist. And why waste time with a resistant female?" He said the last word as if it was a dirty thing. "I could send her clone to Earth, hurt you, and keep the real Samantha Carter for my plaything until I tired of her, and you would never know." He lifted his hands in a gesture to encompass the cloning room as well as the current situation where the Tau'ri were his prisoners. "At last, it would all be possible: you - hurt. Your puny little planet - part of my domain. All these insignificant Tau'ri - captives. And it is still very possible." His eyes widened in pleasure. "It is, in fact, happening right this moment. It is positively inevitable." Ba'al cockily flashed his eyes. "I. Win."

In an abrupt burst of light, Carter suddenly stood beside Jack, fully mended again, just in time to reply to Ba'al's last words. "If you win, then why can I do this?"


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Before anyone could react, Carter gave an odd, quick flick of her wrist, and an ultra thin metal pole with a handle suddenly extended with a quiet _pfft_. In a lightening move, she whacked Ugly Man in the face with the pole, breaking his nose to take him down for the count. His surprised cry heralded the strong thrust of the pole straight into the astonished System Lord's stomach. The move caught him so by surprise that he didn't even retaliate as she deftly hooked a tiny metal wire sticking out the side near the end of her pole onto his wrist device. In one swift move, she yanked it off to clatter beside her right foot. Quick as a blink, she used the pole to shove the Goa'uld device behind her, putting a stop to the possibility of Ba'al somehow regaining control of the weapon.

With a heartstopping thrust, she smashed Jack into the console that he and Carter stood beside, and acted as an automatic shield when she instantly followed him, sandwiching him between the console and her body as chaos erupted in the cloning room. "Now!"

The sudden _zingzingzing_ of many zat guns simultaneously activating accosted Jack's one ear that wasn't mashed into Carter's shoulder. He blinked, and suddenly Ba'al was just another unconscious pile on the floor, along with every one of his Jaffa.

Barely ten seconds had gone by before it was all over. The armored bodies of enemy soldiers littered the ground, all of them having fallen where they stood - they hadn't even had time to lift their weapons before being overwhelmed by surrounding fire. Even Ba'al's evil First Prime was a victim of a well placed zat blast, and was sleeping two feet away from Jack as blood continued to stream from his broken nose.

Now that the fiery chaos was over, the SGC personnel took a unified breath of the stale air as the energy caused by the numerous zat blasts crackled once, twice, then vanished.

Timidly, almost as if they thought they'd done wrong, as many as thirty Cimmerians poked their heads around crates, consoles, corners, and even from the shadows cast by the golden throne. To the last one of them, they looked as freaked out by the sudden occurrence of unexpected zat fire as the captives they had set free, though they were clearly responsible for the zat blasts in the first place. The men and women who had been captives only seconds before stared at their saviors in stunned silence, most still desperately heaving in air.

An eerie quiet settled over the room. Jack grasped Carter as she began to slide in a graceless tumble to the floor, and righted her without thought. She inelegantly clutched at the edge of the console, using Jack and the pole still in her hand as a center till she found her balance. But for the life of him, he couldn't understand why she would need help in regaining her lost balance. They struggled on, but still no one said anything, not even the more grounded Cimmerians. The two groups just continued to stare at each other in shock.

Jack shook his head, but the sight remained unchanged. Carter was still flailing, the Cimmerians were still peeping, Ba'al was unconscious, and his Jaffa were still sleeping. "Carter?" he asked, surprised into a slow crawl to his feet. "Whatchyadoin?"

But before Carter had a chance to respond, out popped Shanahan, still in his Jaffa armor, beaming like he was Father Christmas. "Got him!" he exclaimed the second he spied the prone Ba'al lying only feet from Jack. "Ya like my cavalry?" he jocularly asked. "I figured that a prisoner of Ball was a man after my own heart, so I let 'em go, and here we are!"

Jack shook his head in confusion at the suddenness of the turned tables. It was a given that he still didn't have all the information to the reason that Shanahan had suddenly turned up like the bad penny that he was after being AWOL for the last several hours.

"I see you found the Vikings," Jack slowly began, and sent a loose gesture at a few of the Cimmerians that he recognized.

Pete was far more excited. "I did good, didn't I? I mean, I was supposed to have found them like this, right? They said something about knowing..."

"Um... tell you what," Jack said, finally getting his head wrapped around what had just happened, cutting through the extraneous detail with his usual turbo speed. "As much as I'd like to hear about what just happened here, we have more pressing concerns right now. We need to take advantage of whatever you did to..." And he waved at the fallen army of Jaffa. "So - Carter." He regarded his former 2IC. "So glad to see you on your feet." He quickly glanced down to see that Carter once again had only one leg, and without missing a beat, corrected, "Foot."

Pete stared, his incredulity at the banality of that statement growing. "She just saved your life, and all you can do is..?"

Jack abruptly grabbed the zat still in Shanahan's hand and while Pete was still saying something about owing his life to Carter, which he'd known for a long time, summarily shot Ba'al two more times. The superiorly thinking System Lord disappeared in an arc of blue fire.

Without further fuss, Jack negligently tossed the zat back to Shanahan. "Thanks." And again without missing a beat, went back to his original reason for even being in the cloning room. "Carter - we need to find a way to penetrate two force shields around the cloning machine so that we can destroy Ba'al's toy - got any ideas?"

Called on to perform more scientific than soldierly duties, she shrewdly regarded the entire room. "The best way to shut down any shield is to simply turn it off."

Daniel had by then wandered over. "We... your two clones and I... thought that the source for shields this powerful must be so big that they're hidden someplace else in this..."

He didn't have time to state the word 'facility' when Carter flicked her wrist to activate another of her poles that somehow turned into the slickest pair of crutches that Jack had ever seen, and had used them to 'walk' over to a large console in the center of the room.

"That's some kind of... isn't it?" Jack quickly said, telling her without telling her that this console had already been considered and ruled out by the scientists.

Either not hearing him or choosing to ignore him, Carter continued forward. She expertly pushed a complex series of commands into a recessed side panel on the console, and instantly a crystal drawer slid open. She stared at the crystals in concentration, looked in the direction of the invisible shields, looked at the socks lying on the floor, peered at the wall, then surprisingly turned to the one conscious Jaffa in the room. "Teal'c, is there a staff weapon available that I can use?"

He grabbed one from close to him on the floor. "What do you require, SamanthaCarter?"

Carter didn't hesitate. "Shoot the crystals."

Daniel wasn't so confident. "Uh... won't that..?"

"You told me to find the shield's power source and destroy it," Carter interrupted in a voice of Steele. "My best guess is that's it."

Daniel was quick to point out, "But Sam2 said that the source wasn't in this room."

Carter gave him a look of long-suffering amazement. "And you believed it?"

Daniel looked at the incredulous Carter, at the two Sam clones, and gave his head a slight shake, as if to remind himself that yeah, these clones were loyal to the snake, so _of course_ they would lie as to the whereabouts of a power supply. "Point taken," was all he said. "She's all yours, Teal'c."

Without further ado, Teal'c shot the Goa'uld tray. Crystal remains sprayed across the room, and the steady hum of some kind of energy device suddenly ceased. No one had even been aware of that humming before, but now that it had vanished, it's presence was obvious.

Carter gave a pleased grin. "There you go," she said to Jack.

The experimental toss of another sock through the formerly shielded area gave credence to her grin. Meanwhile, the two Sam clones just stared at the place where Ba'al had lain till a moment before, clearly not quite knowing what to do.

Jack didn't take notice of their obvious emotional state. Actually, he noted it, but was quickly terrified of so much emotion, and so fell back on his typical way of handling such a response from any Carter - he ignored it in lieu of more professional concerns. "How do we destroy this cloning machine?"

"Do you have any C4 with you?" Carter asked, capturing his attention by still using that same businesslike tone.

Jack shook his head. "We don't have any... unless you brought some back from wherever you came from?" he hopefully asked. But Carter shook her head. "Then nope."

"Have you got other explosives?" Carter next asked. Again Jack had to shake his head. "A nequedah generator hidden somewhere in your shorts?" Another head shake left Carter stumped.

"Ba'al didn't leave us with much - you know that - and the Cimmerians don't have much call for blowing things up," Jack told her.

Daniel posited, "Can we just use a staff weapon?"

"Not powerful enough," Carter negated.

Jack snapped his fingers. "One of those Jaffa gun placement thingies?"

Carter regarded him with a look that said she didn't want to shoot down his idea, but did it anyway. "Have you got one on you, Sir?"

To which Jack just rolled his eyes. "Carter!" he simply said instead of reprimanding her once more for calling him 'Sir.'

She didn't apologize. "Then don't call me 'Carter.'"

"What do you suggest we call you that's different than 'Sam' that won't get you mixed up with your clones?"

Carter sent a wry look at her vanished left leg. "I somehow don't think you'll have any trouble telling me apart from my clones."

Not wanting her to get stuck on the fact that her leg was once again missing, Jack led her back to the topic of explosives. "Can you rig this joint to blow itself?"

Carter glanced around the room, stunned at the request that made rigging explosives sound so simple. "Maybe if I had a week to do it!"

"Is that a no?" Jack asked. Carter didn't even bother with a response.

Captain Allen piped up from his position near the wall, "And I don't see anything that might work as an explosive, either." The other scientists all nodded as if they were one person.

Jack scowled at Allen. "I thought you said that you worked with weaponry?"

"I do," Allen replied.

Jack threw up his hands. "Well then - can't you - I don't know - make a weapon?"

Allen snorted incredulously. "I'm sorry, General, but you just don't _make_ a weapon!"

"But we need one!" Jack blurted. "Isn't necessity the mother of all invention?"

Allen grunted, his amazement at the impossibility of what Jack was asking of him again showing in his voice. "Well, yeah, but..."

"But nothing!" Jack threw his gaze to take in the room's consoles and equipment. "This is advanced alien tech - making a bomb out of all this stuff can't be that hard!" He was conveniently forgetting that Carter had already told him it would take at least a week.

Allen's snort came again, quickly reminding him. "Forgive me, General..."

"Wait," Carter commanded, pensive.

"Carter?" Judging by the way she was suddenly chewing her bottom lip, a sure sign that she was deep in thought, Jack fully expected her to have some kind of wild, wacky, dangerous, outlandish, off-the-wall idea that would eventually save their asses.

Carter cast a glance at her clones, another glance at the Cimmerians, at Ba'al's Jaffa, at Teal'c, at Reynolds, at Allen, then finally at Jack. "It's kind of nutty... and a long shot, besides."

Jack took a breath to steady his nerves. "Most of your ideas are nutty, Carter. That's why they work so often."

Trepidation shot through her eyes in spite of his encouraging words. She looked assessingly at the clones again, and finally said to them, "I have a question, but you have to answer me honestly."

Jack immediately said to them, "I order you to answer Colonel Carter as honestly as you can."

Sam2 flinched, but despite where her loyalties lay, couldn't disobey such a direct order. "Yes, Sir."

Sam3 wasn't far behind in saying the same thing.

Jack grinned the barest hint of satisfied grins. Ba'al should have cut the military part out of them when he'd had the chance. But the System Lord's death made certain that it was too late to implement a great many demonic things - an idea that made Jack immensely satisfied.

Carter's question immediately took advantage of Ba'al's unwitting loophole. "Is there a shield of some kind protecting this facility from above?"

"No, not to my knowledge," Sam2 quickly replied.

"Mine either," Sam3 said.

"They are lying," Teal'c immediately announced in a dispassionate voice.

Sam2 growled in frustration. "I'm not lying, shol'va!" Jack flinched. It was almost more than he could stand to hear even a clone of Carter address Teal'c that way. But before he could stop her, Sam2 was going on. "I was cloned long ago when there was no shield of any kind protecting this facility. Things might be different now."

Sam3 uncharacteristically wrung her hands, but didn't say anything.

Jack did a double take. _How strange - no technobabble._ The silence from this third clone sent shivers up his spine again.

But he ignored his misgivings, as he knew that they leaned more towards the personal than the professional. "Should we trust her - er, them?"

Daniel instantly defended, "Well, Sam2 has a point, Jack - it has been quite awhile since..." He deferentially refused to speak about Carter's original cloning session out loud. "But who knows what Ba'al could have acquired or done in the meantime."

"No, she's right," Sam3 broke in, timidly rubbing her hands together when all eyes in the room again turned on her. "Um..." Her voice petered off.

"Go ahead - speak," Allen said, sidling up to her in an act of encouragement.

Sam3 looked so spooked that she wished to run screaming from the room - it was once again an unsettling expression to see in Sam Carter's usually confident blue eyes. "I... mean..."

A huff of irritation exploded out of Carter. "She means that this is a Cimmerian facility, and as the Cimmerians have no reason to shield their places of justice..." She didn't finish her comment as her gaze briefly landed on Gairwyn, who gave a short head nod showing her agreement before Carter continued. "The only way for this place to be shielded is if Ba'al thought to add that shield later, then didn't bother to tell his pets about it."

Sam2 instantly retorted, "We were never his pets!"

Carter gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "Whatever."

Sam2 overrode every other noise in the room to quickly warn, "I know what you're thinking, and it won't work!"

Carter frowned. "How can you possibly know what I'm thinking?"

Sam2's frown was an eerie echo of Carter's. "I know, because that's what I would do! And whatever ship you flew here in doesn't have even close to enough firepower to..."

Carter unceremoniously cut her off when she took an oval shaped rock from the pocket of her pants and spoke into it, "Am I right in thinking that you carry some kind of portable shielding device?"

Thor's strangely melodic tones issued from the rock, "You are correct, Colonel Carter."

Satisfaction crept across her eyes. "Then I need two things. One, beam me out of here. And two, once I'm off the planet, I need you to lock onto my signal still on the planet - I'll explain later - then beam down your portable shielding device as well as some kind of source to power it. The me still on the planet will implement the necessary changes to get it up and running."

"Will including an English translation of the shield's directions be helpful?" Thor asked.

Surprised at that suggestion, Carter smiled. "Yes, it would be a big help - thank you."

"My pleasure." The sound in Thor's voice called the Sam Carter fan club to Jack's mind again. At this rate, Thor was sure to be its first alien inductee!

Carter lowered her rock, and addressing the Sam2 clone, said, "Go with Gairwyn - it's up to you to make certain that shield is..."

"I know what to do." The irritation in Sam2's voice was unmistakable as she moved to stand next to Gairwyn. "Though I still say this won't..."

"Sir," Carter said to Jack, dismissively ignoring her clone's second warning. "Get back to the ship - tell Bra'tac to head for the moon." She paused again as her attention swung inward to repeat with forced conviction, "This _will_ work."

Jack didn't know who she was trying to convince - him, her, or her clone. Or both clones. Or all of them at once. "I trust you, Carter," he softly stated instead, choosing to share her professional conviction just as he chose to trust her personally.

With that, Sam thumped on her crutches to stand beside Sam3 and again spoke into the oval shaped rock. "Get me out." She gripped the clone's shoulder, then they vanished in another flash of white light.

The Tau'ri were all too busy bursting into action to pay much attention to what had just transpired in the cloning room. "Gairwyn, can I trust you to get your people to the caves?" Jack asked in distraction.

Sam2 nodded in tandem with Gairwyn. "_We_ know what to do."

"What plans have you?" was all Gairwyn asked as she began gathering her people together to leave.

While marveling at Gairwyn's trust in the Tau'ri, Jack brusquely responded, "Carter's got some kind of idea - obviously - and if I know her, it doesn't include getting you all killed."

"The portable shield," someone behind him whispered, as if suddenly understanding Carter's strange request, but Jack spoke over him to Gairwyn. "It's a good bet that all of us should get the hell away from here before she does her thing."

Pete pointed at Sam2 and instantly protested, "But didn't that clone thing say that it was impossible to..?"

Jack grabbed his arm to stop him. "Haven't you figured out yet that nothing is impossible for Carter?"

Pete reluctantly grumbled, "I'm beginning to understand that."

"Think about it later," Jack harshly ordered. The fact that Pete had even spoken reminded him that in spite of how he felt about the cop's continued presence on this mission, it was still his distasteful job to deal with him - it made him terse. "Gairwyn, in case these Jaffa wake up before any fireworks happen, take any of these staff weapons you can find with you, too. No point in arming these Jaffa if we can help it."

Gairwyn nodded, and after grabbing every weapon they could carry, herded her people and Sam2 out of the cloning room prior to running with those still in the village for the caves. At exactly the same time, the rest of the Earthers hurried as fast as they could towards where Bra'tac had parked his ship what seemed like eons ago. They didn't get the chance to surprise Bra'tac with their sudden arrival. Carter had beaten them to it.

"Thor transported her several moments ago," Bra'tac reported the second they entered the cloaked ship.

Carter was all business. "Thor said that she... the clone... already has the portable shield up and running." Her voice hardened in resolve. "Now it's up to us."

"The plan..." Bra'tac began. Jack interrupted him.

"The plan is to get out of the way so Carter can do her thing," Jack told him, still brusk. "I suggest..." And he waved Bra'tac aside.

But Carter's hand placed on the Jaffa master's shoulder stopped him from rising from the pilot's seat. "No, you fly the ship, I'll operate the weapons that the Asgard installed. They installed them, right?" And she questioned Bra'tac with raised brows.

He gave a brief nod. "I was told to warn you that you will have one, maybe two shots before we completely burn out - a teltac does not carry enough fuel to power weapons so that they're truly effective."

Carter nodded back at Bra'tac. "That's what I expected. Hopefully we won't need more than a few shots."

"_Hopefully?_" Jack croaked from behind her. _Oh, swell._ As Sam Carter's ideas went, her 'hopefully' was enough to cause fear to wiggle through his insides. This was sure to be _fun_!


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Bra'tac sent a questioning look between Jack and Carter, not knowing which one of them to listen to. Jack swallowed his misgivings and gave a nod to tell him to do as she said. Master Bra'tac quickly began prepping for flight.

They were in orbit before Jack knew it, heading for the Cimmerian moon. The rapid appearance of a ha'tak from the dark side of the moon had most of the twenty-six passengers shrinking back into the bulkhead behind Bra'tac and Carter, as if they believed that distance was enough to confound a mother ship's heat sensors. The appearance of the ha'tak didn't even faze Carter, though, who acted like she had anticipated just this thing. Jack wished he knew what she was considering, but refused to interrupt what was clearly a coordinated dance.

"What..?" Pete started to say once he had regained his breath after his first sprint across alien terrain. Jack stopped him just as he had earlier, only this time his staying hand was much more entwined on the cop's arm.

"Trust her," was all he said, but to him, that was enough.

It wasn't enough for Pete. "But I'm telling you, she can't even..!"

"Why do you insist on reminding us that she isn't as capable as anybody?" Jack hissed at him. "Carter has an idea..."

"Which you don't even know about yet!" Pete viciously reminded.

"Yeah, but I don't have to!" Jack's eyes blazed. "She's Carter - enough said!"

Carter paid no attention to this exchange, eyes riveted to the ha'tak on the viewscreen just as that view abruptly disappeared. A very evil looking man, obviously the ha'tak's First Prime, took over. "Tau'ri scum - surrender!"

Just the tone was enough to make most of the SGC personnel quail, but instead of cowering, Carter barked in her most authoritative voice, "Join us or die!"

Jack blinked - wasn't she quoting Darth Vader?

Unaware that Carter was so successfully channeling a fictional Dark Lord, the First Prime seemed momentarily surprised to find anyone willing to stand up to him, especially a female, but recovered quickly to sneer, "I will destroy you!"

"Not if I destroy you first!" Carter threatened back. She severed the link between the two ships, raised her Asgard communication rock, said, "Thor, fire!" just as she pushed the correct series of buttons for her own ship to fire at the same time.

Those on the teltac held their breath as they fired not at the ha'tak, but at the planet, leaving themselves wide open to attack. Jack prayed that Carter knew what she was doing.

An unexpected mushroom of fire suddenly erupted on the planet's surface, forcing those on the ha'tak to pause just long enough to avoid any backlash from the explosion. The air surrounding that explosion filled the sky with a fury of red and gold. The teltac's shields, already raised in anticipation of just this event, saved them from having to quickly divert any sudden power to protect themselves as the wave of fire abruptly shot through the atmosphere in a whooshing cloud of smoke and debris. It was obviously the very violent end to the only Cimmerian building containing an explosive agent; the cloning facility.

Without missing a beat, Carter reopened the link between the teltac and ha'tak vessels. "Goa'uld scum!" she barked. "You will join your ill-fated comrades on the planet!"

_Wow - she sounds just like a Goa'uld_ Jack appreciatively thought, but his thoughts abruptly suspended at the sudden appearance of... Ba'al.

Jack did a double take. _Another_ one? How could there possibly be another Ba'al?

But again Carter hardly looked fazed. She continued to glare at Ba'al as he leered through the image link... but the System Lord had eyes only for the man standing behind her.

"O'Neill," he calmly said. "We meet again."

"Ba'al," Jack flatly announced, strangling his surprise.

Ba'al's eyes sparkled with malevolence. "I was most pleased with my clone's reports of your capture."

His _clone_?

Then Jack sighed in irritation: of course Ba'al had a clone. He had controlled a cloning machine in a cloning facility on a backwater planet for months. He should have seen this coming.

Apparently, Carter _had_ seen this coming. She now growled low, "Enough. Fire!"

But before anyone could push a single button to carry out her order, a hyperspace window suddenly erupted in the space edging the teltac's viewscreen. The ha'tak vanished into the window as abruptly as it had appeared.

The Tau'ri were again triumphant over the Goa'uld - and hadn't spilled a single drop of Cimmerian, Asgard, or human blood in order to do it.

The one-legged Samantha Carter finally relaxed to give a primal smile. "Well, that was easy."

The silence that followed this short statement slowly gave way to relief, then to euphoria - winning was a _great_ sensation!

Moments later, Carter finished up with an abbreviated explanation of her actions, "It was obvious that the real Ba'al would never trust his Jaffa to handle such a big operation as this one on their own - he would want to personally see to overthrowing the Tau'ri. But he would also want to keep his power base nearby so that his clone was never truly vulnerable, either. So..."

"You guessed as to the ha'tak's location," Teal'c bluntly informed.

Carter nodded. "I guessed."

_But it was a good guess, _Jack appreciatively thought.

Before he could voice that view out loud, Carter was going on, "So, I had that shield set up to protect the Cimmerians, then had us pick a fight with the big bad ha'tak, and had Thor stay cloaked while he fired at the cloning facility from a relatively low orbit."

"And what better place to hide a ha'tak than the far side of a moon..." someone interrupted.

"... which was blind to any sensor sweeps..." another voice added.

Carter triumphantly finished, "And while we pretended to deal with the ha'tak..."

"... you had the Asgard destroy the cloning facility for you..."

"... and firing at anything while in a planet's atmosphere like that would have not only destroyed the cloning facility..."

"... but lit up the atmosphere like a birthday cake..."

"... which is why you had the Cimerrians hide in that shielded cave - as protection."

Carter gave an enthusiastic nod. "Any Asgard shield would be strong enough to withstand even a blast that strong..."

"... and by firing at the same time, it looked like we were the ones who destroyed that thing..."

"... making us look much stronger than we actually are..."

"... and _voila_! It was a bluff among bluffs!"

"Hope the Asgard were taking notes," Daniel said, ending what had been a scientific recitation that would keep the SGC scientists in raptures for months. The military officers present were just glad that they weren't pushing up daisies right now. But as one, genuine respect blazed out of everyone as they all stared in ongoing appreciation at the injured but not beaten Samantha Carter.

It was Jack's scoffing remark that ended the tableaux. "And you thought you would be a liability."


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: This story's reviews have made wonderful and thought provoking reading. Thank you so much for your encouragement and kind words. Like Carter, you're all a National Treasure.

Chapter 27

The trip home. Jack didn't know if he should feel relieved about finally going back to Earth, or anxious. Instead of experiencing one emotion or the other, he had a strange empty feeling in his gut. On the one hand, he would be ecstatic to once again see the SGC again, and on the other, was terrified at what could possibly be waiting for him there - he could resume his old life, as unfulfilling as it had been, or he could embark on a new path. It was this second aspect that had him in its terrifying grip.

In the meantime, several of the SGC personnel had opted to remain on Cimmeria to assist in whatever way possible with the efforts to deal with the fallout of the Goa'uld occupation; it seemed that Ba'al's forces had had a larger impact on the planet than simply cloning its inhabitants. A great deal of rebuilding needed to be done in addition to the settling of the clones. Even Sam2 decided to remain with the Cimmerians for now, offering her support and expertise. Still, the future of the Cimmerians, both cloned and otherwise, seemed murky despite the help of the SGC.

And as the teltac sped with Thor towards Earth, Jack did his best not to think about his own future too much other than to consider what to do with the rest of the clones. The part in the future of the SGC that he and Carter would play was much more tenuous, as they were both retired now.

Which highlighted several more things for Jack to worry about: Was he really and truly retired now? He knew that many times he'd said that he was retired, but he could easily explain that as a mix of 'I did what I was supposed to do' and hopeful thinking. He'd had too much experience with the way Hammond had handled his retirement in the past not to be worried now.

And strangely enough, he had mixed feelings about killing Ba'al, only to have him come back to life a few moments later. Ba'al's death had seemed so final to him, and he had even felt good about the fact that he'd finally kicked the ass of his nemesis. To have him suddenly reappear like he had was galling.

How what he'd done to Ba'al fit or didn't fit in with his killing past was another issue that he studiously avoided.

Carter was yet another issue, or ten issues, all in herself. They hadn't had the opportunity, nor the push, to talk much on this trip back home. He didn't know what had happened to her after she had disappeared from clone-Ba'al's cell on Cimmeria, plus he still had no idea what she thought of him after seeing so many of his memories from his earlier special forces days - not to mention how she now felt about the part he'd undeniably played in the recent torture that had almost killed her. He knew that such a thing could easily be construed as very personal. Add onto all that the fact that he couldn't get away from the idea that he'd always thought of himself as something of a legal killer, and now he had Carter's opinion of him to worry about, too, especially after the Ba'al-killing thing. It made the whole situation seem damned horrifying. No wonder he felt this urge to avoid even thinking about all this stuff. It was a wonder it hadn't driven him insane already!

But he supposed that he would have to address these concerns eventually; a teltac was just too small in size to accommodate so many people without running into a particular individual eventually, and his odds of bumping into Carter (both literally as well as figuratively) were pretty good.

And if he were honest with himself, he _wanted_ to see Carter, to be near her, and to enjoy having the right to feel her when he wanted to (that is, if he decided to go with the 'I'm retired' idea now). Yet he didn't think he could handle it if he tried to establish some kind of link with Carter, and she just spurned his advances because she couldn't stand to be in the same room with him anymore. He wouldn't blame her if she thought that way, but the possibility of that happening scared him so badly that he shied away from the entire situation. So by avoiding it altogether, he did just what he always did - denied that there was anything to talk about in the first place. Carter wasn't the only one who had honed the ability to deny everything for as long as possible.

Thus Jack was quite surprised when Carter actually sought him out a few hours later. He was even more stunned when she didn't say anything to him, but tucked her reduced crutches into her pants for safekeeping, then immediately (and very publicly) enfolded him into her arms in a hug that was as tight as it was long. He didn't question her motives, but instead sank into her hold, needing that support now that the day's action was over and things were finally settling down. It was as if he was getting so frazzled that he needed someone to comfort him and tell him 'It'll be ok.' Things like the last few days didn't used to bother him so much, but he clearly wasn't as stalwart as he used to be. It was one of his first indications that he was getting old.

When at last she reared back a bit in order to see his face, he was able to gauge her reaction to him by searching her expression. Though as Carter was a master at hiding her innermost feelings when she wanted to, he didn't have much success in any gauging exercise.

"You ok?" she finally asked.

It was a completely innocuous question, and he had the instant urge to say that yes, he was fine. But his next thought told him that that was hardly conducive to any amount of progress in the relationship that he wanted to form with Carter. So he sucked in a breath and said, "No, not really," in spite of his misgivings.

Once again, she didn't say anything, only gazed at him with an inquiring look that somehow conveyed her worry as well as her confusion. He was instantly amazed at how much meaning she could convey with only a look.

"I'm just..." he tried to tell her, but his throat closed up when he attempted to mention his concern as to her perception of him now.

Her look turned from one of query to one of admonishment in a heartbeat.

He couldn't believe it: she was yelling at him with just her expression! The irony if that distracted him until he was able to instruct, "Don't start on..."

"I'm not starting on anything," she protested. "But I'd like to point out that you wouldn't let me get away with this not-talking thing again. So... what's on your mind?" Her look wasn't just inquisitive now - it also told him that if he clammed up again, she would calmly kick his ass from here to the Tok'ra homeworld.

Jack took a moment to marvel at how well she let her eyes do her talking for her, but knew he couldn't avoid her question forever, no matter how much he would like to.

Jack winced now - he hated causing her pain of any kind. "I'm wondering about what you saw... the first time in Ba'al's cloning chamber," he bluntly said, going straight for the heart of the matter, as was usual for him once he had decided to speak. "I don't want to bring up a sticky issue, but..."

"You're doing it anyway," she announced, seemingly unaware that she was once again finishing his sentences for him. "What about it?"

"Well, I..." Jack hedged.

But Carter's sigh cut him off. "Jack, don't be so stupid."

Which surprised him. "Stupid?"

"You're worried about all those killing memories that I saw, aren't you?"

Jack shrugged. "You have to admit that..!"

Carter shook him hard enough to rattle his teeth. "Stop being so predictable!"

Which was soooooo not the way he'd ever expected her to react.

She didn't give him a chance to respond. "You're thinking that I'm thinking that you're nothing but a killer, and that I blame you for clone-Ba'al's torture of me, and you deserve it if I never want to see you again, and..." Her litany abruptly ended as she growled, "Knock it off, Jack!"

Now it was his turn to look at her in confusion.

Her irritation was palpable. "Don't you think that I already knew about all that killing stuff? I've known about that since I first met you!"

His astonishment was nearly overwhelming. "You did?"

She gave him her 'don't be dumb' look. "Of course I did! Am I military, or not? Can I read between the lines, or not? I know perfectly well that someone isn't recruited into special forces for being a lightweight! I knew from the outset that you were a marksman, probably had been a sniper at some point in your career, and could therefor infer that you hadn't just been shooting at inanimate targets all this time."

Oh. She already knew all about that.

"Give me some credit!" She acerbically went on, "So clone-Ba'al didn't tell me anything I didn't already know. Teal'c knows all about it, too. I'm not sure about Daniel, but even he isn't as slow on the uptake as he used to be. He probably suspects, though I've never said anything to him, and he's never asked." She shook her head. "But it doesn't make any difference to me what you used to do - it's what you do now that matters."

"And this whole thing doesn't bother you?" he asked in surprise. "Not the killing, or the torture or the Ba'al...?"

"No, it doesn't matter to me," she immediately insisted. "What I'm more interested in right now is what do you want to do about... us." Her voice grew increasingly unsure as she spoke.

A Samantha Carter who wasn't automatically hiding from her emotions? Had she been mixed up with her clones? "You have to ask?"

She gave him the evil eye. "Of course I have to ask - I haven't been in the field for months - I can't read your mind, and unless you tell me..."

Jack smirked, relieved beyond belief that his worries had been unwarranted. "We seem to have a shortage of closets that you can push me into right now so I can tell you what I'm thinking without having an audience."

"That's an old, tired excuse, Jack," she said in a short tone, surprising him anew. "Audience or not, I want to know what's on your mind, once and for all, and..."

Alright, if she really didn't care... "There better be an 'us,' that's all I can say."

Carter eyed him again, judging. "You're sure? I can't do the whole 'will they/won't they' thing for another eight years."

She'd obviously lost more than her leg recently - she'd also lost her inhibitions. There's no way that the pre-Pete Carter would have spoken to him so bluntly, especially in front of twenty individuals who were busily pretending not to hear a word they said. For another frightening second, Jack again wondered if he'd somehow come in contact with another of her clones, but she put his fears to rest in the next second when she said:

"And I'm not a clone, just tired to death of not knowing what you're thinking."

Well, that was an easy fear to allay. "I"m thinking that if I don't hug you in another minute, I'll explode."

Sam gave a mischievous grin the minute she heard that. "I have no wish to clean bits of Jack O'Neill out of the deck plates." Her second hug was even tighter than her first. "This makes getting my legs hacked off almost worth it."

Jack didn't release her, but spoke into her shoulder. "Yeah, what happened with that, anyway? One minute you were bleeding to death in my arms, and the next, you had disappeared."

"I told you: I was with Thor." There was such finality in her voice that it was like she'd already told him all he needed to know, though she really hadn't said a single specific thing about that incident.

"But like I said before, I'm a dense guy. You have to spell it out for me."

Sam sighed again, her frustration immediately building. She was clearly still touchy on the lack-of-leg issue. "It was just like you probably predicted: Thor beamed me straight to Frazer - she pulled her miracle thing out of her little gray... fixed all my injuries inside and out, then tried to attach both leg templates. But the one leg that had already had the template attached to it rejected the new tissue... something about already having tissue added one other time so it wouldn't add more... Janet would have understood better. So I've got one leg again."

"Which just sucks," Jack sarcastically interrupted, overcome by how she must have been ready to beat a hole in the ship for experiencing two legs again for awhile, then ending up with only one - he couldn't think of a crueler joke if he tried. The Universe was really out to get her.

Sam gave a bitter laugh. "I thought about shooting myself out the airlock without a pressure suit," she told him.

"I'm awfully glad you didn't," Jack admitted, facing the idea of a Carterless future again, and not liking it one bit.

Another bitter laugh exploded out of her. "I was already outside the airlock when Thor appeared, explaining how he was sorry if I was disoriented by his sudden transport, but that he had been monitoring my lifesigns, and was worried when my blood pressure suddenly dropped - it seems that the clothes we were wearing had biosensors built into them somehow."

"Voyeurism, Asgard style?" Jack guessed.

Sam snorted. "Maybe. But then he mentioned having a problem with the design for some ultra light crutches - how could they withstand hundreds of pounds of pressure and still be portable?" She sighed in regret. "I couldn't resist - I had to give him my ideas."

Jack wasn't surprised to hear about Thor's tactics. He even wondered if Thor had played stupid on purpose just to get Carter out of her depression. He wouldn't put it past him.

Carter continued, "So I helped Thor design these." She retrieved one of the crutches from where she'd tucked them both away and extended it. It would have been nothing but a long pole with a handle except for the way it moved in and out with nothing but the flick of her wrist, and had semicircular pads for her forearms that sprang up or down, depending on what she wanted the crutch to do at any given time.

Jack took the crutch, spending the next few minutes flicking his wrist so that the crutch lengthened or shortened at his command. "Niiiice!" He'd never felt anything so light yet still be so portable. "What are these things made of? Not naquedah - it's too light. Not titanium, either."

"No, Thor called it - let me see if I get this right - neutronium. It's what Asgard ships are made of - light, but very strong."

Jack smirked again. "If we have to withstand a replicator attack, I'll know who to call."

And with that, their uninterrupted time alone came to an end with the sudden appearance of Pete Shanahan. Jack caught his groan before he made a sound: Pete was quickly growing as bad at timing as Daniel had always been. "Am I interrupting?"

"Yes," Sam honestly announced, "but don't let that bother you."

_She's still somewhat snippy with Pete_ Jack noted, and in spite of his own sense of irritation at the interruption, magnanimously decided to smooth things over for the cop. "You're not really bothering us - not exactly." But he also didn't move out of Carter's arms when speaking to him - his magnanimity only went so far.

"I um..." Pete stuttered. "Um... wondered if I can have a word... with Sam?"

Jack let himself make an aggravated sighing sound. "I suppose we were mostly done anyway." He handed back the crutch he'd been playing with to Carter as he disengaged from her hold. "I want this to continue later," he said in parting, then leaned in close to Carter. "If he tries anything, just clobber him with your crutch - you're good at the clobbering thing."

She shot him an offended look that still managed to convey her guilt about the situation he referred to, then softened when he kissed her cheek before walking away.

"Don't mind me," he called over his shoulder. "I'll just be over here... reading my memos."

He sauntered into the cargo hold, aiming for his pack to inventory their remaining supplies, then practically tripped over the outstretched forms of Teal'c and Daniel. They both looked comfortable, meaning that they must have been in this out-of-the-way hole for some time.

"Oh - sorry," Jack quickly said. "I'll just go and..."

"No, stay," Daniel invited. "Keep us company for awhile."

"Don't mind if I do." Jack pulled his pack close to him, then joined his friends.

Daniel, Jack, and Teal'c sat together for several minutes, silently staring at Jack's pack, but not touching it. Nobody said anything, but the silence wasn't awkward or strained. Jack was almost relieved to again be in the company of two of the three people in the galaxy who didn't mind if he was quiet. Always being expected to have all the answers was wearing after awhile.

"Hey T," Jack began, eventually breaking the silence. "How's your shoes working out for you?"

Teal'c turned a pleased expression toward his feet and his unusual footwear. "Very well, O'Neill. Thank you."

"Good, good," Jack absently said. "Better than having cuts all over your feet 'cause of the rocky ground, huh?"

"Indeed," the Jaffa agreeably said.

Silence again reigned until, in a display of deceptive calmness, Jack asked, "So, do you guys have any idea how long it'll take us to get home?"

Daniel's forehead wrinkled. "Space-time: isn't that more Sam's department?"

Jack grimaced. "Yeah, but she's busy talking with Shanahan."

Daniel made a face, as if he suddenly understood why Jack wished to appear so calm. "Him commandeering Sam - you must not be too thrilled about that."

Jack's deception quickly disintigrated. "Not too thrilled - no." In fact, there was very little about Shanahan that made him happy - ever. In spite of the fact that the man had literally saved his ass back there in Ba'al's cloning facility, he was always interfering in SGC business, always poking his nose in where it didn't belong, always... just always being around when he wasn't wanted. In fact, the only reason he had allowed the Detective to join this mission was because... because...

Jack gave an internal grimace at the direction of his thoughts. He'd only ever put up with Shanahan's company solely at Carter's silent request, including on this mission, if he was honest with himself. It frankly terrified him how often he was willing to do what he swore he'd never do just because Carter was the one to ask, albeit it silently. He'd even taken on a symbiote just because she had beseeched him with nothing but those incredible eyes of hers. When had he become such a sucker for her eyes?

This time had been no different - he'd only given in about taking Shanahan along as backup on this mission because they'd been discussing him going up against Ba'al alone while on Thor's ship - she'd tossed one worried glance in his direction, and _wham_! The next thing he knew, he had a civilian Detective as backup. He had basically caved to nothing but an expression of concern for him in her blue eyes. It was frat-reg-affection at its worst! No wonder the military protected itself by inducing things like the frat regs: he would have been a total sucker right from the time he'd met her without them!

Of course, there was something to be said for being a total sucker.

Teal'c almost smiled, still referring to Pete when he commented, "He does, however, have a surprising amount of what you call 'staying power.'"

Jack grunted his agreement this time, but still didn't say anything. Saying anything might lead him to saying too much. It was better by far to be silent on the Pete subject than to appear to be (_ugh!_) grateful.

It truly pissed Jack off to owe gratitude to someone like Shanahan

Jack's silence did nothing more than make Teal'c grin more fully. Such silence from Jack O'Neill meant that he was anxious about something - or seriously pissed, though never declaring what had him in such a bad mood. Either way, this emotional Jack O'Neill amused the Jaffa. "Yes, that is what he said as well."

Jack huffed, hating the feeling that he was missing something, but feeling it nevertheless. Daniel, on the other hand, loudly guffawed. "Something funny, Daniel?" Jack asked in his most dangerous voice.

But Daniel, unwilling to give anything away, vigorously shook his head. "Of course not."

Which meant that he did think something was funny, but at long last knew enough not to antagonize Jack. Unable to goad his friend into revealing more information, Jack now found himself staring absently at the other people crowding the cargo bay, thinking once again of the Carter clones, specifically their eyes, and how empty they were when either of them had looked at him - how they looked like the real Carter, but weren't really _her_. "I'm thinking about those clones again, and I don't mind saying it - those clones freak me right out. They're right... but not right. Just look at how different the Carter clones are."

"You can say that again," Daniel fervently stated.

Jack wholeheartedly agreed with him, but was rather surprised that Daniel had said it. "You were the one who was getting all chummy with that Sam2 clone, Daniel," he reminded.

"O'Neill is correct - you seemed most taken with that clone of SamanthaCarter," Teal'c observed.

Daniel balked, objecting, "I chose to work with her in order to find the shield's power source, that's all. But I knew right from the get go that she wasn't the real Sam, and never would be." His discomfort manifesting itself as accusation, he defensively pointed out to Jack, "You were the one who was all cozy with the third Sam clone. You were even hiding behind a console with her, if I remember right."

Jack did his own uncomfortable fidget. "I wasn't hiding, Daniel, I was..."

"If you were not hiding, O'Neill, why is it that I could not see you in my rounds of the room's perimeter?"

That was going to be hard to argue against. Jack immediately tried anyway. "Can I help it if your Jaffa super senses were turned off at the time, T?" He was careful to keep his gaze trained firmly away from the Jaffa. "I was talking to her, _not_ hiding with her."

Daniel smirked. "Whatever you say, Jack."

Jack scowled. "At least I was only talking - not like you, who was going all gung ho for the science thing!" He glared at Daniel one more time, still angry with his friend. "Whatever Sam Carter says is fine with you, no matter the version, huh?"

Incensed, Daniel reared back. "Well, what I did is nothing like what you and..."

"O'Neill, DanielJackson - you are both correct," Teal'c forcefully interrupted. "SamanthaCarter will be gratified to hear of your praise."

As nice as that sentiment was, Jack had the feeling that the big guy was just trying to put a halt to his and Daniel's conversation, and said as much.

"Perhaps," the Jaffa said at last in restrained amusement. "However," he added, growing serious. "We must remember what we accomplished on this day - we have dealt Ba'al a serious blow."

"Ba'al - let's face it - he's a nut job," Jack announced. "Wacko, crazy, his brain is fried, he's looped the loop, and there's no coming back for him, if you follow." Then he sighed in aggravation. "But I promised myself I wouldn't say things like that (_even if I think them_). Worse, I promised Carter... sort of... and a promise to Carter is binding... that is, if you don't want a pissed off Carter pretending you're her next blow-up-the-sun project."

"And I am certain that you do not want that," Teal'c added, his humor on rare display. "Things are not so definite between you and SamanthaCarter for you to blithely ignore her desires."

Jack snorted this time. "Spoken like a man with experience, Teal'c."

Teal'c sagely inclined his head. "Indeed."

Daniel boosted himself off the floor for a second.

Jack noticed. "Uncomfortable, Daniel?"

"My butt's going numb," the archaeologist replied. Teal'c and Jack laughed. "But seriously," Daniel said, changing the subject. "Did you guys notice anything... odd... about those Sam clones?"

"Odd?" Jack echoed.

"Yeah," Daniel reiterated. "As in 'weird.'"

"Weird?"

Daniel glowered. "Will you quit doing that, Jack?"

"Doing what?"

Instead of telling him not to copy him, Daniel just gave an aggravated gush. "I mean, she seemed... I don't know... kinda..."

"She was very hesitant," Teal'c glibly told them. "Not nearly as confident as the warrior we all know."

"Yeah," Jack suddenly agreed. "I thought the same thing." He remembered the authoritative way real-Carter had spoken to Ba'al's First Prime aboard the ha'tak. "There's no way that Sam3 would ever have been able to pull of such a good impersonation of a Goa'uld like she did today."

Daniel grunted a laugh. "She did sound pissed, didn't she?"

Teal'c added, "Pissed, and angry."

"That is pissed," Jack informed.

"No matter," Teal'c responded. "She was very Goa'uld-like." There was a hint of pride in his voice. "No Jaffa could help responding to such a tone."

"Lucky for us," Jack said.

Daniel carelessly waved his arm for attention. "My point is that neither of the Sam clones could have pulled it off." He looked assessingly at his companions. "Right?" When they didn't quickly agree, added, "I wasn't dreaming, was I? Didn't they seem more hesitant to you?"

"That could be because of the whole loyalty thing," Jack suggested.

"Maybe." Daniel didn't sound convinced. "But I was thinking that maybe it was for another reason."

Jack eyed him. "Meaning?"

Daniel took a fortifying breath before saying, "Well... I have this theory."

Jack rolled his eyes. "You and ever scientist I've ever met."

Daniel ignored him. "I was thinking... what do you guys think..."

"Just spit it out, Daniel!"

"The Sam clones will never truly be clones of Sam because they don't have all that makes her _her_."

Silence greeted this theory as Jack and Teal'c worked for a moment to internalize it. Finally Teal'c spoke.

"Elaborate, DanielJackson."

Daniel, being Daniel, was only too happy to comply. "Well, Ba'al made this big show of cutting out all her feelings for you, right Jack?"

Jack tried not to show how uncomfortable it made him to have his friend refer so openly to a subject that had been considered taboo for so many years. "Uh..."

Daniel took his grunt as agreement. "My point is that because the clones hadn't been affected by you like she was all these years, Jack, the clones aren't as confident as she is, aren't as likely to consider trying the truly crazy ideas that always end up saving our asses."

Jack could hardly deny that he'd been thinking the same thing. "That may be, Daniel," he said, "but wouldn't ole Ba'alsy-boy have thought of that?"

"Not necessarily," Daniel said. "Think about it: Ba'al was thrilled to 'cut you out' of the real Sam..."

"Don't remind me."

"He was just as determined to banish you from the clones. And if I remember right, realSam wasn't nearly as confident when we first met her as she is now."

Jack wasn't sure, as he hadn't experienced that hesitant Carter, but a thoughtful Teal'c said, "I concur, DanielJackson."

Warming to his topic, Daniel hurried on before Jack could brush his idea aside like so much trash. "RealSam gained confidence at the same time her feelings for Jack increased."

Jack frowned, still finding it hard not to automatically change the subject to something other than his feelings. "Now you're talking crazy. I had no influence over her. She became who and what she is all on her own."

Daniel pointed at Jack. "See, there it is," he said in excitement.

But Jack hadn't done anything. "_What?_"

"That overwhelming confidence in her, like she can do no wrong."

Jack shrugged. "But she so often doesn't - she's _Carter_!"

Daniel regarded him. "Did you ever consider that she's Carter because of the way you believe in her?"

"Huh?"

Daniel looked up to take in Teal'c with his gaze. "Maybe it's because of all of us, but I bet it's mostly because of you, Jack."

Jack gave a wary grunt. "Daniel, make sense!"

Daniel was supremely aggravated now. "Fine! You asked for it!" His aggravation increased, almost as if he had wanted to say this very thing to Jack for so long that he almost couldn't contain himself now. "She loves you, but she didn't always - even I could see that! I bet Teal'c could see it, too!"

Jack instantly grew incensed at what Daniel was so openly talking about, and wanted above everything to stop his friend's mouth with an uppercut to his jaw. However, he was simultaneously aware that to finally get what he wanted concerning Carter meant that he had to stomach such obvious references as Daniel's with equanimity. So he sat on his hands in order to keep them to himself. If nothing else, it would keep him in good standing with Carter; he doubted that she would appreciate him punching the mouthy archaeologist just now.

That mouthy archaeologist was busy morphing into an unstoppable force, much to Jack's annoyance. "It all came on so gradually until _you_ became a part of _her_. Her confidence grew as her feelings for you grew - and when Ba'al cut that part out of her clones, he ended up taking an important part of her - the essence that makes her _her_ - that's what I'm saying!"

Silence reigned in the cargo bay after that blunt announcement. The two friends thought over the linguist's words, Teal'c with sincere consideration, and Jack with anger simmering just at the edge of his mighty control.

"Perhaps DanielJackson is correct," Teal'c said at last. "The clones of SamanthaCarter were strangely shy."

It was such an odd assessment of Carter that Jack was stunned out of the anger that he was busy controlling. 'Shy' just wasn't a word that he automatically connected to Carter. "Maybe..." He sounded reluctant, but had to admit to himself that he'd been thinking the same thing - which made him seem self-important. And he didn't want his friends to think that - so he refused to voice his earlier thoughts - but that didn't mean he hadn't had them. "Maybe... this is just a crackpot idea," he suggested in stilted language.

Daniel wilted. "Yeah, I thought you might say that."

Jack hated to shoot Daniel down like that, especially when he secretly thought he had something. Then again, he didn't want Daniel to get too stuck on this idea, either. The thought that he'd had such an influence on Carter all along was a bit daunting.

Then Jack thought to wonder if maybe she'd had the same influence on him?

He'd be lying if he said no. And he'd promised himself that he was done with the lying thing.

But admitting it was so hard!

Changing the subject was a much better approach. "Hey, did you guys catch the game at..." Jack asked, then stopped himself. "Of course you didn't - Teal'c was with the Free Jaffa and Daniel was doing the clone thing - my mistake."

Teal'c looked at Jack as if he was well aware of what Jack was doing, but instead only said, "I believe I did catch that game, O'Neill. As you Tau'ri say, we were stolen."

Daniel gave a sigh, but corrected the Jaffa anyway. "That's 'we were robbed,' Teal'c."

"As were we with Ba'al." And there was no arguing with Teal'c when he used such a tone of finality.

Jack agreed with him wholeheartedly, but was just glad that Daniel seemed distracted. "Yep - robbed."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Hours later found Jack again reorganizing his supplies as he continued thinking about the Carter clones, and hence Carter by association. Both Daniel and Teal'c had disappeared to tasks unknown, and Carter herself was conspicuously absent - she was either still talking to Shanahan, or, knowing Carter the way he did, had quietly vanished into the bowels of the engine room and was currently tinkering with Goa'uld crystals, and doohickeys, and whatnot. Or else she was so depressed about the abrupt return of her previous one-legged existence that she had cornered herself away so she could grieve in private.

Jack grimaced. Grieving alone for anything was very in keeping with either one of their characters. He wished she didn't feel as if she had to deal with all this upheaval alone, but he couldn't blame her for being that way, either. He was the same. How could he take her to task for something that he was just as likely to do?

Though that idea reminded him that she hadn't spoken much about this situation with him at all. She'd said that she'd been tempted while on Thor's ship to jump out the airlock when the little alien had stopped her. Jack was extremely glad that he had, and felt indebted beyond what he could repay to the alien, but it emphasized how Carter needed the catharsis of conversing about this. He felt a rush of overwhelming fear hit him just from contemplating discussing an emotional situation, but just as swiftly came a strong determination to be there for her, for once in his life. In fact, he determined to be there for her forever, if that's what she needed.

That sounded so... trite. Yet, if 'trite' was what they needed right now, then he was happy to become the embodiment of the worst cliché. He was more sure than ever that Sam Carter was worth it.

Those thoughts kept Jack relatively well entertained (worried) until they finally reached Earth. Like much of this adventure, returning to the SGC was almost anticlimactic. They landed in secret at Peterson after quickly attaining the proper clearance. Jack was surprised that it all happened so fast: the greenhorn General that he remembered being in charge of the SGC seemed to be taking an awful lot of this mission of theirs on faith. It would be only too easy for them to say they were who they were, then turn out to be Goa'uld agents bent on conquering the planet. It was all too likely a scenario. Jack promised himself to have a word with the General before departing the SGC for (hopefully) the last time as a retired officer, and (doubly hopefully) with Carter by his side.

The entire ease of their acceptance explained itself away as he soon grew aware that it wasn't General Charles at the helm of the Stargate Program, as he'd expected, but General Hammond, who was so familiar with many of the individuals on board Bra'tac's ship that he wasn't remotely fazed when they requested to make an emergency landing.

A crazy debrief followed, with all those people tripping over themselves to tell the General all about this cloning adventure, giving more than her due to Carter for delivering them from the jaws of death. But Jack was okay with a little Carter-worshipping. She deserved it if anyone did.

But it seemed that a great deal of this came as no surprise to Hammond, particularly any part dealing with a clone. It turned out that the Earth clones had been discovered not long after Jack and Carter's precipitous departure. As an added insult, that uncovering had been at the unlikely hands of The Dragon Lady Doctor.

"She first noticed your clone's lack of a broken arm when it should have been only half healed," Hammond patiently explained to Jack as he walked beside him down a corridor in the direction of the holding cells housing the clones. "When you didn't show for your next two appointments in the Infirmary, she notified General Charles as well as me." He gave a head shake. "I'm more than glad that she was worried enough about this that she thought to call me as well as tell her CO."

"And it kind of snowballed from there?" Jack inquired, trying to keep up with this turn of events - he'd expected to have a difficult time convincing TPTB of the clones, not that the entire situation would already be resolved by the time they arrived home.

"The fact that I also heard from the SGC helped," Hammond went on the explain. At Jack's confused look, added, "What else was I supposed to do, Jack? Besides the more professional call I'd just gotten from The Dragon..." He forcefully cleared his throat, then corrected, "From Dr. Lam detailing her concerns about you, I also received one very panicked phone call from General Charles telling me that the SGC armory had just disappeared half an hour before in a flash of white light. I knew a flash of white light had to be an Asgard beam, and a vanished armory has always been somehow connected to SG-1 in the past, Jack, and that means that it was somehow connected to you. Which meant that the other you was somehow a fake, a copy, a clone. And if this was all about you - as I'd already heard reports that you and Samantha Carter were also gone - you were with Thor. So I secretly flew to the SGC, then we contacted the Asgard, who explained what was really going on, and they sent a ship to help us separate who had been cloned from who hadn't. Their ship's scanners are much more accurate than our less technological machines."

"Gotta love those Asgard," Jack softly quipped.

Hammond continued as if Jack hadn't interrupted, "Capturing the clones was simple after that. However..."

Hammond's recitation abruptly stopped, as if he'd run into a wall. Jack glanced at him, suddenly nervous. "Why don't I like that 'however?"

Hammond heaved a sigh. "That's because I didn't feel right sending your retirement paperwork through the system when you were so obviously on a mission for the Air Force. You didn't want to end up a retired General with an entire Air Force base worth of armament in your possession."

True. But... "Not retired yet." Jack's dark echo sounded flat in the corridor. It was way worse than he'd suspected. He grumpily growled, "Why the heck did it matter if I was retired or not?"

Hammond reared back. "If I'd retired you, you would have been a civilian, son! Do you know the penalties for being a civilian with an entire base's armory compliment?"

"I was with Thor!"

"I know that! But Thor is classified! The whole Asgard fleet is classified! If word of this... theft... got out..."

"It wasn't theft!"

"That's what it looked like to General Charles!"

That stopped Jack right in the middle of the corridor. In all this time, he hadn't considered anything except what was happening to him, doing this job for Thor, stopping Ba'al, doing whatever it took. He hadn't once thought to wonder how it might appear to those on the outside. Jack's protest, when it came, was vehement. "But as the leader of the SGC, Charles would have been aware that weird things like this happen all the time."

Hammond's response wasn't so slow. "You're not considering that he didn't have a the background like yours, are you, Jack?"

"Wouldn't someone... like, say, Reynolds... have pointed this out to him, have..?"

"The only Colonel Reynolds that General Charles ever knew was a clone - you just proved it." Hammond stopped walking when Jack did in order to carefully say, "Just how much weight do you think a clone's words are going to carry in a court-martial, Jack?"

Jack gazed at Hammond's sincere expression, speechless.

"I did the only thing I could at the time," Hammond gently repeated. "Keeping you in the military was a favor, Jack. I'm sorry that still being in the Air Force doesn't fit in with your personal plans... whatever they are... but in the long run, it seemed like the best thing I could do for you at the time." The soft voice soothed as it argued. "Jack, I'm sure that spending time in prison isn't part of your future plans. Just give me some time - I'll get your paperwork sent through, I promise."

Jack's first thought was to acerbically point out that this was the third time he'd tried to retire this year, and the way things were going, he didn't quite trust Hammond with this situation anymore. Yet he knew that voicing those thoughts wouldn't be the smartest thing for him to do. So he swallowed his misgivings and muttered, "Okay - but this is the last time!" he warned. "After this, I'm seriously going AWOL!"

Hammond chuckled. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. But you won't have to."

"I better not!"

"You won't." Hammond's promise couldn't be any more sincere.

Jack's irritation at this situation couldn't be more sincere, either.

Hammond grinned a tiny grin at the younger man. As if sensing that he'd pushed Jack as far as he could at one time, said, "In fact, I'll help you get the ball rolling - get out of here while I'm not looking." He smiled slyly. "I can't assign a mission to you if I can't find you."

Jack escaped from Hammond in the only direction that was open to him - before he even realized where he was going, he found himself heading for the elevator on level 27. It hadn't occurred to him that this level's elevator might be in demand for the other personnel for this mission as well.

More to the point, Carter stood at the elevator, obviously waiting for it to arrive. She was alone, meaning that no Pete accompanied her for the time being. The cop had been her shadow for the duration that they'd been in the SGC, but now he assumed that Shanahan had finally been shown to guest quarters prior to another, more detailed, debriefing. Carter must have already endured her debrief, and was finally being allowed to head home. Except 'home' was now a nursing home in Denver. She had no lab at the SGC any longer to while away her extra time in, no quarters, and no locker with a convenient change of clothes hiding in its depths. If she chose not to avail herself of the SGC guest quarters, she had no place left to go. Why she was even at the elevator was a complete mystery to Jack.

"Carter," Jack called, catching her attention. She looked up, startled, as if she'd been deep in thought. "Where ya going? Thought we could go out for a bite to eat or something." His voice faded as he caught up to her. "Or not. You don't look too thrilled with that idea."

Carter shook herself. "Oh, I am - thrilled, that is." She looked almost uncomfortable. "I was just thinking about a few things."

"Such as?" Jack asked after she didn't elaborate.

Carter looked surprised that he even cared about what was on her mind, but of course he cared. He cared about everything connected to her - she just wasn't used to him displaying his interest.

"Um..." she answered now, and Jack watched as she frantically tried to sort through her thoughts in quick fashion. He'd always loved the way that what she was doing showed on her face. "I was thinking about the clones."

"What about them?"

"That they can't stay here. Having two of anybody around would just be too confusing. And they can't stay in the SGC - being confined to base would just be too... confining," she lamely ended, being uncharacteristically vague for her.

Jack was glad to hear that vagueness. "Being so imprecise almost makes you a real person," he teased.

She quelled him with a look as she continued, "Then I got to thinking about what I would want to do in that situation, where I would want to go. I immediately considered our allies who..."

"Thinking about the Asgard? The Tok'ra?"

"They at least have some form of technology for clone-Sam to play with - she'd be bored to death otherwise, and trust me! I've done the bored thing - it's not for her!"

Jack considered the idea of Carter stuck on... he shuddered.

"Yeah. I see you get my meaning."

Jack sighed, tired and wanting to go home, but glad for even a clone pow wow in her presence. "Yeah - it's a mess... but how about..?"

She and he spoke at the same time. "Langara."

Jack peered closely at her. "Do you mean that?"

Carter shrugged. "Why not? The people of Langara know about the Gate, the recent Goa'uld occupation diminished their population, they all know strategy, the military, and several of the scientists have had dealings with naquadria."

"You being one of them," Jack helpfully pointed out.

"With the naquadria research what it is... or isn't... it's the perfect place for the Sam clones. So why not see if the clones can go there?"

It was a good suggestion. "Maybe even Jonas can help with them."

"Maybe." Then again, maybe Jonas wouldn't want to have anything to do with reminders of his one year spent on Earth.

"It's something we can think about," Carter said.

"Yeah - we can think tomorrow. Right now..."

"I was also thinking about something Pete said earlier." She was faking her bright good will.

Jack didn't have any good will left, and frowned. "Okay, what did that low life do this time?"

"Nothing," she adamantly stated. "He just said that he would take care of the whole nursing home/Thor-beaming-us-up thing."

"Yeah, I guess it did look like we just..."

"Vanished?" she finished for him on a grimace. "Pete told me that he would say it was for a magic trick he was working on for some of his friends at the station... that if we could fool the people at the Home, then..." Her voice trailed away until she suddenly blurted, "He asked about his wife."

Aware of the potential stickiness of this subject, Jack proceeded with caution by not saying anything definite. "And you told him..?"

Carter gave a tiny grin at Jack's reluctance - some things never changed. "I'd already told him that his wife wasn't me."

But Jack wanted something more specific than that. "What did you tell him about..?" His open-ended tone led her on.

Carter heaved a sad sigh, but explained, "I told him the truth, like I'd been telling him for months - that she's dead."

Jack winced - the thought of a Carter - _any_ Carter - dying was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. Yet the following thought that at least it wasn't his Carter who had died made relief flood through him. The two opposing emotions made him squirm. "How did he take it?"

Carter paused, but finally said, "He'll be alright... I think. He did say that he'd revoke his Power of Attorney. And that he'd give me a divorce."

Which made Jack do a double take. "A divorce?" She nodded. "Just like that?" Then he shook his head. "Not just like that, but... Why now?"

Carter shrugged. "I guess after seeing the clones, he couldn't pretend anymore."

Jack's face darkened, recalling what Shanahan had said aboard Thor's ship about having a marriage license that proved that he was definitely married to Samantha Carter. "He wasn't pretending."

Carter was silent for a minute until she claimed in a small voice, "Yes, he was."

Jack's eyebrow rose in complete disbelief.

"You look like you don't believe me."

Jack gusted air. "I want to," he admitted at last. "But experience tells me that when you get that one thing you desperately want, it usually means that you're going to regret it, or you're going to die before it can come true."

Carter laughed. "You fatalist!" The grim atmosphere surrounding them dissipated. "I'm sure I won't regret this, Jack, and as far as I know, I'm not going to die... at least, not for awhile yet." Her smile now turned into a grimace. "I might do a bit of the limping thing... or the clunking thing... or the wheeling thing..."

"I'm good with the limping thing... and the clunking... and wheeling... so I've been told," Jack said, quick to steer clear of where she was heading with this topic. He stared straight at Carter, trying to let his eyes show his feelings for once instead of shutting them down, as he was much more used to. "I guess we're not ones for the talking thing."

"Not so much." Carter's own assessing stare raked over him. "But the wheeling thing... it's much more likely now than... the Asgard thing."

Meaning that Frazer had already done her magic, and this was as good as it was likely to get. "I told you before, I don't care about that."

Carter was quick to point out, "Some people might not be so accepting of things several years from now."

"I'm not some people."

Carter rolled her eyes. "That's putting it mildly."

Suddenly, Jack was tired of all the double speak that he and she naturally engaged in. "Sam, look, I told you before: you gotta lay it all out straight for me - I'm a dense guy."

Carter rolled her eyes again. "You're not dense unless you want to be."

"I don't want to be about this anymore."

Looking oddly shy, she quietly said, "I would be lying if I didn't say the same."

Jack's brows rose to his hair. "Well then?"

Carter regarded him in the haltingly thoughtful way that he knew so well, and suddenly he understood how her clones could come off as so unsure of themselves. Carter looked discombobulated, but more because of what she was contemplating rather than distressed at not being able to make up her mind.

He was all for what he hoped she was contemplating, and his prompt showed that. "Well?"

As if he had reminded her of the discussion they had shared while on board Bra'tac's ship, determination settled over her like a shroud. "Dinner - with me... you and me... how about it?"

He didn't want to seem too eager by answering right away, and she took his silence as an opportunity.

"I'm paying," she cajoled.

Suddenly her hidden meaning stunned Jack. "Carter," he expostulated. "Are you asking me out on a... date?"

The fact that she didn't reply said quite a bit.

"Sorta," she said at last. "Yes," she more definitively stated.

Huh - a date - with Carter - Sam. Jack didn't know what do to with a date. He'd never faced this before. Oh, sure, he'd dreamed about it, even almost gathered enough courage once or twice to ask the same thing of her, despite the presence of the regs. But...

Daniel and Teal'c casually passed by just then, the two of them taking up practically the entire corridor. Daniel had his nose habitually buried in a book, and the Jaffa's hands were firmly clasped behind his back in his 'relaxed Jaffa' pose. Neither of them looked around, and both passed by in total unconcern, but Jack could have sworn that just as he went by, Daniel whispered to him, "Just say yes," and Teal'c reenforced that command by raising his eyebrow in his 'don't be an idiot this time!' expression. Daniel seconded their friend's look by adding, "If you don't, I'll shoot you myself."

They'd both been so quiet that it was almost as if they hadn't spoken at all. Teal'c hadn't, unless you counted his silent eyebrow communication.

But their advice was still good, even if it had transpired from thin air.

It also happened to agree with Jack's desires. "Sure," Jack said to Carter before he could second guess himself. "Can't say that I want anything more just now."

Carter looked relieved, and simultaneously as if she knew this was how things would go all along - she just had to give it the right opportunity. She didn't say anything, but gripped her crutches tighter, as if what was ahead scared her to death, but she was sick and tired of being scared. "Good." Then she smiled.

It was _that_ smile.

Rockets exploded. Fireworks flared. Sparks flew.

Jack felt his gut clench in response, just like it had always done.

But like he'd never allowed himself to do before now, he smiled back, just as slow, and just as big. "Let's go."

The End


End file.
